The Willing Suspension of Disbelief
by Oh Hello World
Summary: A collection of senseless drabbles of alternate universes. / 06: "It was in the small things, the small things that made life easier."
1. Attention

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. Emotional manipulation or "testing" your partner's feelings is not okay. Mikan is a little bit immature, yes. Inspired by Charlie Puth's "Attention."**

* * *

Mikan Sakura loved the attention.

Not in the sense where she was desperate to have the spotlight trained on her at all times, but it was just _so_ nice to feel appreciated every once in a while.

And ever since she became single and available again, she definitely was feeling appreciated by the love letters stuffed daily into her locker, the thoughtful gifts thrusted toward her by blushing boys and girls, the chocolates made exclusively for her.

But that wasn't the only attention she craved.

Seeing him approach from the corner of her eye, she pretended to be obliviously shuffling her books around in her locker, knowing he was coming for her.

He always did. With his usual arrogance and know-it-all attitude, he leaned in close so she could smell his familiar cologne.

"Party at Shouda's tonight. You going?"

Natsume fuckin' Hyuuga: one of Alice Academy's many heartthrobs, elusive and aloof bad boy, soccer team co-captain, Mikan Sakura's ex-boyfriend. She had broken up with him a week and a half ago to the surprise of half the student body and to the shock of the formerly unshakable Natsume. There were no tears, no yelling; just a calm and smooth delivery and a couple of long phone calls later.

They were still good friends.

So they said.

Mikan shut her locker and looked at him with those big, wide innocent eyes he always used to fall for. "Of course I am."

He smirked, reaching out to lightly touch her arm. "Come over and I'll drive you there."

"Really, Natsume? That's so nice of you to offer," she beamed with her toothy smile. She saw his eyes dip low to focus on her mouth (and her lips, perfectly plump and glossed with his favorite vanilla balm) as she tilted her head flirtatiously.

Before he could respond with some poorly concealed innuendo and before he could intoxicate her with his full-on charm, she straightened up, thanked him for the ride, and walked away, keenly aware of his eyes following her down the hall.

She knew she had baited him just enough to keep him hooked, enough to keep his eyes locked on her figure for the rest of the day, enough to keep him coming back to her.

* * *

Hotaru Imai was not a particularly social person. If her best friends weren't all so ridiculously outgoing and popular, she would have lived happily in solitude, venturing out every so often for lowkey events like pizza sleepovers and movie nights. But that was years ago.

"Hey, give me a ride to Shouda's." Now it was all about the parties and the music and the dancing and the dumb shenanigans. Hotaru absolutely refused to go anywhere without knowing if at least three of her friends would be there for her to latch onto. Her best friend, Mikan, would never abandon her.

"Can't." Mikan carefully applied a line of eyeliner to her left eye, intently focused at her reflection, but she could still feel the frown directed at her and the disapproval emanating from her best friend, who was lying on the bed with her applied physics workbook in front of her.

Satisfied with her matching eye make-up, she turned around to face Hotaru. "I'm already going with someone."

Hotaru was incredulous. "Who? I'll just catch a ride with them, too."

"Natsume."

"Natsume as in your _ex-boyfriend_ Natsume?"

She rolled her eyes and went back to applying the rest of her party face. "He's more than just my ex, Hotaru. We're practically family."

" _No_ , you and I are like family since we're best friends. You two are _exes_. Don't you find that a little bit weird?" Hotaru knew there were still friendly vibes between the two of them, but she had never really warmed up to Hyuuga that much. He was... _okay._ When he and Mikan were still together, sometimes Hotaru thought he wasn't treating her best friend as well as she deserved. It took the patience of a saint to put up with Hyuuga's grouchy attitude and complete inability to talk about his feelings.

Mikan shrugged. "It wasn't a bad break-up, and we both agreed to be friends."

"We've all seen how he looks at you," Hotaru deadpanned. "He wants to be more than friends."

"Does he now?" she said lightly, focused more on the outline of her lips and the way they looked when pushed together. She popped them a couple of times, effectively ending Hotaru's investigation.

Hotaru gave her best friend a suspicious look; Mikan was playing some game, and Hotaru wasn't sure she would win.

* * *

Hotaru caught a ride with Nonoko and Anna, the other two "Geeky Sisters." As she climbed into Nonoko's sedan, she gave Mikan a stern warning look as Mikan stood in front of her door, all dressed up, waiting for Natsume.

He came four minutes later, seven minutes earlier than he said he would arrive, just because that was who he was. She smiled brightly, skipping down her driveway with a hop. As he opened the door for her, she greeted him with a half-hug and an innocuous kiss on the cheek.

They bantered amicably during the car ride there, slipping into an easy comfort that reminded them of their first days together as a couple.

Natsume was uncharacteristically courteous that night: opening the door for her again, taking her jacket for her, getting her a drink, staying by her side, greeting her friends (only Hotaru gave him the untrusting side-eye), and dancing when she wanted to.

Sweaty and gleeful and completely ready to take a break, she allowed him to pull her down to the couch in a quiet corner, and she tumbled onto his lap with a silly giggle. Sumire Shouda sure knew how to set the mood, her couches arranged into dark corners and the music perfectly set up to encourage frantic dancing in the middle of her house while also allowing for couples to sneak off and talk.

Of course, Natsume definitely wanted to do something besides talk.

He playfully nipped at her neck, and she merely closed her eyes and giggled more. It was only when she felt him mark the familiar hickey on his usual spot did she feel inclined to push him away.

"Okay, lover boy, that's enough," she said, without really meaning it, before she pulled him back to kiss him.

Minutes later, Mikan was comfortable nestled in Natsume's hold as she had her arms wrapped around his neck. She gazed at him contently, satisfied with just looking at him despite the darkness, despite the sweat, despite the other couples still making out around them.

Natsume looked back, allowing her to take in all of his face. He brushed her growing bangs away from her eyes.

"Why couldn't you be this affectionate when we were together?" she pouted, tugging at his cheeks playfully.

"I'm a changed man, Mikan," he answered sincerely, "I've seen the error of my ways."

She rolled her eyes a bit. "'The error of my ways,' yeah, right, Natsume. No need to butter me up with all your talk."

"I'll do more than just talk then," Natsume said before leaning in for more kisses.

* * *

He walked her to the front door, her arm linked in his.

"Do I get a good night kiss?" he asked innocently, blinking slowly, as though they _hadn't_ spent the majority of Sumire's party macking on each other. Mikan swore he was actually batting his eyelashes at her, and she smiled at the adorable sight.

She leaned forward to place a kiss right on the edge of his mouth, just close enough to tempt him.

Of course, he fell for it, quickly turning his head so her lips landed on his and engaging her in a passionate kiss, which she responded to without inhibitions, arms wrapping around his familiar shape like slipping into a comfortable pair of sweats.

She broke away first, of course. She couldn't let him get what he wanted all the time.

"Good night, Natsume," she said firmly as she went inside her house and shut the door.

For several moments more, Natsume stood on the porch, replaying the night in his head.

It was a good day's work. He thought he had pulled off the grovelling ex personality very successfully. Damn, it wounded his pride and deflated his ego, but if he had to do it to get Mikan back, he sure as hell would.

She was trying to make a point to him, he knew that much for sure. When Mikan had told him those impossible four words, "Let's take a break," he didn't believe them for a second. When he called later and asked her why, she merely said she didn't want to be in a relationship anymore without any specifics.

Natsume knew her, knew what she wanted in life, knew what she dreamed about, knew what she was afraid of, knew what she cried over. If she were serious, she would have been utterly devastated and launched into a sobbing speech about why they couldn't be together.

He knew it was difficult to be with him. It had taken him years to be less stubborn and lower his ego enough to admit he even remotely liked her, much less had a crush on her. That's why he needed Mikan in his life; she understood who he was, how he acted, and why he did the things he did. She never pushed him beyond what he was really comfortable with, and she always listened.

Natsume more or less listened. If he had to take a guess and truly thought about the game she wanted to play with him, he was sure he could correctly identify the cause being she wanted him to give her more attention. He was more than happy to oblige her in that aspect. With the way he was acting, he would woo her all over again and get her back in only a couple more days.

Mikan stood at her bedroom window and watched Natsume walk back to his car. When he opened the driver's door, he looked up one last time and she blew him a kiss with a cheeky grin.

She saw him smirk before he got into his car and drove away.

Of course she still loved Natsume, and she knew he wouldn't give her up that easily. For months while they were dating, she had nagged Natsume to show her more affection, to be more of a gentleman, to pay more attention. It was wrong to play with his feelings, she knew that, but she knew she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life so she had to make a statement. She wanted to feel appreciated, and Natsume learned better by example than instruction. She had talked to him again and again, but she had to just show him what she wanted.

She didn't want him to be like that all of the time, of course. He wasn't like that, and she accepted that fact. But every once in a while didn't do any harm. She knew he could get very loving when he wanted. By the end of the week, she decided, she would stop the charade and ask him to get back together.

Who cared what other people thought or said? This was between her and him, and this was their relationship. Besides, Mikan just loved the attention.

* * *

 _a willingness to suspend one's critical faculties and believe something surreal; sacrifice of realism and logic for the sake of enjoyment._


	2. Best Part

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.**

 **Author's Note** : Before you start reading, I wanted to clear up some confusion. This is a collection of drabbles so this story has no connection with the one before it or the one after it (if there will be one). Each "chapter" is _not_ a continuation. They are all separate stories with different plots in different universes unless explicitly stated so.

 _Unedited as always._

* * *

"Who is _she_?"

Shiki Masachika lowered his champagne flute and tried to identify exactly who his closest friend saw. "Who? This isn't a debutante ball, Kazumi."

In fact, it was the complete opposite since it was the annual introduction of eligible young _males_ to high society; shame there was no official, succinct name.

"That brunette over there, with the Hyuugas."

It was easy to spot her once he found the distinguished family. With a reputation for business shrewdness and unmistakable black hair and distinctly red eyes, he could immediately tell the easy-going, smiling brunette did not quite fit in. Shiki watched the infamous Hyuuga heir, one of the males debuting that day, approach his family and wrap his arms around the brunette, leaning in for a kiss.

"Looks as though she's the Hyuuga boy's girlfriend," Shiki said simply, though Kazumi could clearly see the same thing and arrive at the same conclusion.

"Doesn't she look familiar?" Something in his tone made Shiki feel uneasy.

Still disconcerted by his friend's relentless attention to this girl, he took a closer look, purposefully searching for another face within hers. The hosts announced the commencement of the first dance, and the Hyuuga boy whisked the brunette away on his arm, leaving Shiki and Kazumi unable to examine her face further. "A former student?"

Kazumi shook his head silently. After another moment of contemplation, he suddenly left Shiki's side. "Kazumi?"

Shiki followed him obediently, intrigued by Kazumi's intense focus on the brunette, as Kazumi greeted Kaoru Hyuuga and her husband.

"What an honor to see my old high school principal," exclaimed socialite Kaoru Hyuuga cheekily. Even in her mid-forties with two nearly grown children, she looked as youthful and mischievous as Kazumi remembered back in her school days. "Here to send me to detention?"

Kazumi gave her a small smile before getting down to business. "That brunette with your son, who is she?"

Her crimson eyes sparkled as she looked at the girl to whom Kazumi was referring dancing happily with her tall, imposing son. "Oh, that's the lovely Mikan! She's been our ward for quite some time now. That charming little lady has my son smitten." She placed one hand affectionately over her heart with an adoring smile.

"Her family?" Kazumi inquired politely.

Kaoru shook her head sadly. "Do you remember Yuka?" Kazumi nodded curtly. "That's her daughter. Yuka entrusted little Mikan to when she passed away of cancer."

"My condolences," Kazumi said softly. "Her father?"

A small frown tugged at Karou's lips and pulled her brows together. "Yuka never did say, and she would have told me, her closest friend. I think she might have gotten pregnant at university, though, _Alice University,_ of course."

Shiki had known Yuka Azumi a bit more personally than Kazumi. While they weren't as close as Yuka was with Karou, Shiki had seen her around and actually been in a few classes with her at Alice Academy and Alice University. She had a reputation for being a rowdy spitfire, a student activist in a sense, always caring and advocating for one cause or another.

Kazumi, on the other hand, was merely the high school principal for Alice Academy, the elite private school recommended for those wanting to enter Alice University, a top university in the country. He most likely only knew Yuka on a professional level: a school administrator keeping her in line, ensuring her success during her time at Alice Academy, preparing her for university.

Kazumi's family, the Yukihiras, had run both of those educational institutions for decades, each new generation becoming the principal or president. His late brother, Izumi Yukihira was supposed to have become the principal for Alice Academy while Kazumi went to the university level to be the president of Alice University, but sadly, Izumi was in a fatal car accident some years ago; almost 18 years ago if Shiki recalled correctly.

And that's when Shiki remembered. He put his hand on Kazumi's shoulder and leaned in.

"Her smile…" was all he needed to whisper before Kazumi saw it, too.

Her smile reminded them of someone else.

* * *

" _Surprise!_ "

Natsume was not surprised, but to the amusement and gratitude of his companions, he tried his best to appear so.

"Ah," he said in a deadpan tone, a bit louder than his normal talking voice, hands halfheartedly up. "I can't believe my friends put this together for me. I'm so happy and surprised." Then he made a direct beeline right for Mikan's arms.

"Happy birthday, Natsume," she managed to whisper before he captured her mouth in a torrid kiss. His other friends laughed good-naturedly at the sight of Natsume making out with his girl.

"Guess we're not needed anymore," Koko joked as he corralled everyone else toward the food and entertainment. His present to Natsume for his 18th birthday, as agreed upon earlier by the two of them, would be some "fucking privacy" and no "smartass" comments about his relationship with Mikan. It was more like, Natsume presented these terms and Koko agreed after some intense intimidation and some mild threatening.

Mikan pulled away, but Natsume pulled her right back and sprinkled kisses all over Mikan's cheek as she giggled.

"Where's my present, huh?" he growled playfully as he pecked kiss after kiss on her lips. "This is a very special birthday."

"Which is why," she declared suggestively, arms around his neck, "I got you a _very_ special gift."

He hummed in approval, but he grew confused when she extracted herself from his embrace and went over to the growing pile of wrapped presents to pluck one small box out. She gave him a naughty grin, one that piqued his interest, and his mind soared with the possibilities, most of them inappropriate, of what could be inside that tiny box in his hand.

Maybe it'd be a thong, and she would nibble on his ear and whisper for him to pull it off of her for many nights to come. Maybe it'd be a condom, and she would wink and tell him it was for later in the night. Maybe it'd be an engagement ring, and she would get down on one knee and propose to him in front of all their friends like he planned to do for her birthday in a few months.

He hoped it was sexy pictures of her.

"Wow," he said, not pretending to be excited this time. "A tie."

He hated wearing ties. Nonetheless, he smiled gently at her and gave her a kiss. "Thank you."

"I saw you looking at this months ago, and I knew it had to be yours. It's even the same color as your eyes!" she squealed as she draped it around his neck and tied it for him.

She knew he was slightly disappointed, but she couldn't help it. There were few, rare opportunities for her to tease him like he did her every day.

Later that night, when everyone left, she would tie that exact same piece of clothing around his eyes and make him work for his _real_ gift.

* * *

Graduation was a week and a half ago, and as scared for the future as they were, they at least knew it would be together. Or that it should have been together.

And Natsume was ready to make it together forever. He wasn't some whimsical, lovesick teenager who thought with the wrong head. Mikan was it for him: the future, happiness, the sun, truth; she was just _it,_ everything.

She had become such an integral part of his life that he had never imagined life without her. Ever since Mikan's mother had passed away when they were six and his own mother had taken Mikan under her wing, they had found each other: a lonely, angry boy and a lonely, heartbroken girl; an explosive volcano colliding with a frenzied tsunami. Admittedly, the first year was rough for both of them, Natsume needing to adjust to another presence in the house, one that was _constantly_ attached to him, and Mikan, of course, needed time to cope and process. But by the end, by the time Natsume's younger sister, Aoi, was born, Mikan had taught him how to express his emotions and learn how to get along with others while Natsume had taught her how to deal with grief and how to not be okay sometimes.

Natsume was sure she needed him as much as he needed her.

And he needed her _a lot_.

"Ditch the party," Natsume gasped against her lips when he was able to take a breath. "We can go celebrate by ourselves." Mikan grabbed his collar and pulled him in for another deep kiss, which he happily agreed to.

"That's unfair to everyone else," she murmured later when she couldn't seem to _stop_ pecking his lips with small kisses. She cradled his face in both her hands, caressing his strong jaw. His hands, meanwhile, were rumpling her beloved birthday dress, trying to persuade her to go alone with him.

A nibble on the earlobe and hot breath tickling her skin tempted her to, for once in her life, not think about her friends and maybe be a little selfish, but Mikan was firm. She would celebrate her birthday with _everyone_.

She stopped kissing him and pulled away so she could refix her hair and her dress, but Natsume and his naughty hands were getting the way. Nevertheless, Mikan ignored him standing right behind her, lips and hands on her skin, as she looked at her reflection (and _only_ her reflection) in the mirror and put her hair back up in a more simplified version of the elaborate twist Auntie Kaoru's hairdresser had done earlier.

His eyes were watching her in the mirror, but she knew he hated the silent treatment and would try to use a different tactic to refocus her attention on him like the big baby he was.

Sometimes, Mikan wondered how she had fallen in love with him, especially when he was being immature and pouty and sour, but then she remembered his good moments; the moments, where even as a child, he had let her cry on him, the moments where she had been stressed and upset and he helped her think of solutions, the moments where she ran away from the Hyuuga manor, so sick of being a burden, only for him to bring her back with reassurances that she was one of them.

Even when Auntie Kaoru legally changed her name to Mikan Hyuuga, she always had a little tickle of her mind, an anchor weighing down her heart, that nagged her about not truly fitting in with the rest of the family. It was so obvious, just by appearance, that she stood out. Mikan was grateful beyond words for all Auntie Kaoru had done for her, but the only one true place that Mikan knew she belonged without a doubt was with Natsume.

He leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder, subconsciously breathing in deeply the perfume she had layered on for the evening. He loved the smell of her.

But before he could get back to romancing her again, his mom burst into the room, all energy and smiles, carrying a small package in her hands.

"Mikan!" she exclaimed, pulling in the birthday girl for a hug and away from her son. She lay a kiss on each of Mikan's cheeks. "Happy birthday! You look astoundingly beautiful tonight."

Mikan couldn't help but to beam back at Karou. "Thank you so much!" Remembering where her thoughts had drifted before Kaoru's entrance, she added, "I want you to know I appreciate all you have done to provide for me my entire life. This is the best family I could ask for." She looked at Natsume.

Kaoru dabbed the corners of her eyes with a manicured finger. "Oh, dear, say no more or I'll start crying." She pulled in her adoptive "daughter" for a tight hug, Mikan rubbing her back soothingly. Every day that Mikan grew, Kaoru was reminded more and more of Yuka: her gracious heart, her kind eyes, her beautiful laugh. When they broke away, Kaoru tucked a strand of Mikan's hair behind her ear, back into the hairdo that most definitely was not the one Kaoru had asked her hairdresser to prepare for Mikan.

Kaoru decided to let this one teasing opportunity slip (of course she had noticed how close they were, how wrinkled their clothes were, how red their faces were); her son was already so anxious about what he had planned this evening. "Oh! I forgot, this came for you a few days ago, but it's been so busy with the party planning that I forgot to give it to you until now!"

She presented to Mikan the small package wrapped in plain thick brown paper. At first, Mikan was a bit confused over the lack of festive decoration, but accepted the gift with a smile. "Thank you."

She set the package down on the vanity and sat down to open it. Kaoru moved over to her son, who was watching Mikan carefully with loving eyes.

"Are you ready?" Kaoru whispered, leaning in to ensure Mikan would not hear, though she was already too engrossed in her mysterious present. Natsume turned to face his mom and nodded.

"Fireworks, cake, music, howalon: all ready. I just checked."

"Ring?"

Natsume discreetly pulled out the small velvet box from his pants pocket and concealed it in his palm to show his mom, who looked away from Mikan diligently reading a letter to look down to make sure the ring was _actually_ there.

"The heirloom or the one you showed me earlier?"

"I went with the heirloom. It's tradition."

Kaoru nodded, then smiled at her son. She patted his shoulder. "She'll love it."

Natsume smirked. "I know."

* * *

As the happy couple took to the dance floor for the first dance of the evening, Natsume could see quite clearly and up close that Mikan was not exactly enjoying the party. Her eyes weren't quite focused on him, she sometimes bit her lip (a sign that she was in deep thought), and he could feel in her movements that she was on autopilot, doing the same moves they had always done time after time.

He had first noticed her distracted state when they stood together and greeted her guests as they entered; she was still happy, but not as perky as she would have been.

Then her guests and he had noticed her slipping in and out, just for a couple of minutes each time, but her many absences had been noticeable, especially since it was then Natsume's duty to take care of and check in on all her guests.

And sometimes, when he looked at her, when she wasn't talking to anyone and just listening, her smile had faded and she wore her worry on her face.

It was supposed to be a blissful, moment occasion. It couldn't happen, not like this.

After their first dance ended, he walked her off the dance floor and back to the nearest empty room.

"What's wrong?" he demanded (gently) as soon as he closed the door. Mikan had plopped down on the couch, grabbing a pillow to hold in her lap.

Mikan decided to cut the bullshit and get straight to the point. "I got a letter today. From my biological family." Her eyes, in a rare moment, were unreadable for Natsume.

Natsume first was confused. "From Grandpa Nonno?" Mikan still sometimes kept in contact with Yuka's father, who regrettably suffered from Alzheimer's due to his old age and whom they had visited periodically. It didn't make sense that a letter from him would disturb her so much unless…he...

Mikan cleared her throat. "No. From my father's side."

 _Oh_.

Natsume let Mikan do the talking. "His name was Izumi Yukihira. His brother, Kazumi Yukihira, sent me a picture of him and wrote me a letter. He's the principal of that fancy private school, Alice Academy."

Natsume nodded. In the elite world, people knew who people were. He knew who the Yukihiras were, and now, he supposed, he knew more personally who another Yukihira was.

"He wants me to take a DNA test just to make sure we're really blood-related, but he's very sure. Even _I'm_ sure. I saw the picture of my dad, and, Natsume, we _look_ alike. I could see myself in his face."

Knowing what was coming next, Natsume rushed to her side, just in time for Mikan to bury her face in his chest to muffle her sobbing and for him to wrap his arms around her.

Natsume knew Mikan had always been sensitive about her lineage, curious to where she came from. Nobody had been able to provide her a satisfactory answer about her father, not his mom nor any of her friends. It was a shock to finally discover who she was, and it would change their lives.

After a few moments of recollecting herself, Mikan lifted her damp face from the wet spot on the front of his suit. Out of habit, he helped her brush her tears away.

"He says he wants me to come to him so we can talk in person," she managed to stammer out in a still choked voice. "The letter was sent about three weeks ago, and I'm sure it was supposed to be opened weeks ago, but Natsume, tonight he's leaving to promote Alice Academy in other countries, and he's invited me to come along to really get to know each other."

Natsume nodded along, actively listening to her yet something in her tone made him feel as though he were still missing some piece of the puzzle. It would be sad to see her go, but this was important to her so it was important to him. He could still propose to her before she left, promising her that he would wait. Sure, it would hurry the entire schedule along, but the fireworks and the music and the cake and the howalon were ready; he was ready, he had always been ready to make them forever. Out of the blue, Mikan kissed his cheek, lightly, shuffling closer to him.

"He gave me his number, and I've been calling him during the night, but he's super busy packing and preparing so we really haven't talked. I really want to go with him." She gave him another kiss on the cheek, and he absentmindedly returned it with a kiss on her lips.

"What's wrong? You need to go, Mikan. I think you might have been waiting for this your entire life," he reminded her softly. He didn't miss the guilt in her eyes or the hesitation in her face. Mikan interlaced their fingers of both hands. Something was going on.

She looked down at their connected hands and said slowly, "His plane is leaving in an hour and... I would have to be gone for three years."

Natsume nearly yanked his hands from hers, but opted instead to clutch hers more tightly. "And you're _just_ telling me _now_?" He couldn't keep the slight anger from his voice; she would leave tonight for _three years_ and leaving in _one hour?_ Actually, _less_ than an hour! The longest they had ever been apart was, at most, an entire summer when they went to separate camps.

"Natsume," she began heatedly, "I've been going over this in my head all night, and I couldn't decide whether to go or not. I don't want to leave you, but like you said, Natsume, I feel like this is the moment I've been waiting for my entire life, to finally learn who I am and where I came from."

He saw the fire in her eyes yet somehow he felt like he was drowning, his ears plugged with water, the image of Mikan wavering as though underwater. "Surely you don't have to be gone for _three_ _years_?"

Mikan shook her head, almost sadly. "He's been planning this trip for a long while, Natsume, it's his _business_ ; this is what he does as a living. I've seen the schedule he has, and it's busy work every single day. He barely schedules himself any vacations or breaks. It's three years at the minimum."

He emerged from the water like a rising volcano as reality hit him again. "At the minimum?! So you would be gone for more than three years? Would I even get to see you ever?"

"Natsume, I don't know. I really want to make a good impression on him, and I want to learn from him and help him as much as I can. I don't know what's going to happen." Mikan sighed, already feeling a little drained and a little out-of-place in her birthday dress meant for celebration

Singing a different tune than before, Natsume pleaded, "Don't go." He brought their intertwined hands to his chest. Why was he so against the idea? He knew it would make her happy, truly happy and satisfied, but the idea of not seeing her for three years was… _daunting._ He felt his heartbeat race and his lungs suddenly not get enough air; he was _panicking_.

"Natsume, I want to go, and I already feel like I've already decided, but I need you to be okay with it," she said calmly like a teacher explaining to a troublemaker why he was being punished. "I love you."

She soothed the sting of her sudden news with a soft kiss, which he absentmindedly accepted as he tried to control himself and think rationally. It would be for the best; Mikan needed to know. She would be happier knowing. They could still have a future together, but…

"But what if you stayed? You could wait for him to come back, and we could continue what we're doing now," he blurted in a rush, not really thinking about what he was saying. "You can just stay, and we'll figure out what to do afterwards, and you'll be Mikan Hyuuga."

Mikan dropped their hands and stood up, causing him to rise from the couch, too. "I don't want to _just_ be Mikan Hyuuga forever. I want to know where I come from. I want to know where I belong!

"You belong with me," was his instant, insistent response, which honestly frustrated Mikan more.

For years, Mikan had nagged Natsume to be more verbally romantic, but this was _not_ the time.

"Natsume, you know I need to know. I can't just wait around for three years, wondering about something I've wondered about my entire life. Now that I know I have an uncle out there somewhere, I won't be able to stop myself from thinking about everything I thought I knew. It has to be now. I have to leave now."

Natsume knew he could make her stay. He knew with four little words, romantic gesture or not, he could make her forget all about leaving, leaving _him_ , and make her stay. If he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him right now, she would forget about the time crunch, she would let her uncle leave on his plane, and she would stay with him.

He squeezed the small velvet box in his pocket, his hands sweaty and clammy.

She was already Mikan Hyuuga; he could make it official. He could make her stay with him, ask her to marry him and live happily ever after.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

But not like this. It was supposed to be a blissful, momentous occasion; not a coerced manipulation. He wanted her to be happy, and she would be happier leaving.

Natsume relaxed, accepting the truth. He gave her a small smile. "Go."

Hearing the genuine support in his voice, she kissed him deeply just like she would 36 minutes later when she got into one of the Hyuuga's cars to meet her uncle at the airport.

Natsume watched Mikan go, now uncertain if his future would include her or if hers would include him.

Kaoru gently placed a hand on her despondent son's shoulder. She had read the letter and heard the abridged explanation while Mikan hurriedly threw together her belongings into as few bags as she could.

"She would have said yes," was her offer of condolence.

"I know."

He didn't know what would happen to the two of them in three years; he knew she would be delighted to learn who she was, he knew he would miss her. He knew he would still love her.

Natsume knew he would be able to live without her, but after spending nearly all of his life with her, Mikan had simply made it easier to live.

* * *

 _a willingness to suspend one's critical faculties and believe something surreal; sacrifice of realism and logic for the sake of enjoyment._


	3. Colors

_Author's Note_ : I'm still alive. I had the very basic outline of this story done a while ago, but I really wanted to push myself to get something out so it's not the best quality. I'm in a kind of funk so it'll take a while before I get my full writing groove back.

* * *

"Aoi, do you think you can give this to your brother?"

Looking up from her science workbook, Aoi Hyuuga blinked once, then took out the one white earbud she had in and smiled brightly at Midori, one of her second year classmates.

"Sure," she said automatically, too kind to ever turn down a favor asked, taking the small wrapped package. It was pretty light and decorated plainly in vibrant red paper. "What is it?"

Midori giggled a little, a light pink blush dusting her cheeks. "It's chocolates. Please make sure your brother opens it."

Immediately after hearing Midori's words, Aoi's smile tightened and she looked sheepishly at her classmate. She tried to break the news gently (though it really wasn't _news_ ): "Um, you know, my brother already has a girlfriend."

Midori straightened up a little bit, obviously undeterred, puffing up and rolling her eyes. "So? He's still super hot, and you never know. They might break up."

Aoi was not a person who liked conflict. She would rather float along with the waves than fight the current. While her brother, the infamous Natsume Hyuuga, was a hothead who ran his mouth off at all the teachers, who had nearly daily public spats with his girlfriend of five (holy crap, was it really that long? Midori really didn't have a chance...) years, who loved to cause trouble, Aoi Hyuuga was a much softer and nicer person; her brother was red, she was blue.

Aoi nodded her head genially. "Okay," was all she said as she tucked the box of chocolates away in her bag as Midori smiled triumphantly and thanked her before running back to her friends who exclaimed at her boldness.

If Natsume didn't want them, maybe his girlfriend would; and if the lovely Mikan didn't, then maybe it'll be given back to Aoi to eat. She never turned down chocolate.

"It's not even Valentine's Day," she mumbled under her breath as she put in one earbud and returned to her work.

* * *

Though Aoi Hyuuga was a good girl, and her shithead brother was a troublemaker, they still got along pretty well and loved each other. Of course, Aoi disapproved of his reckless lifestyle, but he had been getting better with Mikan giving him shit about his laziness, his lack of motivation, and his uncaring nature.

Mikan Sakura truly was a blessing to the Hyuuga family. Ever since their mom had died when Natsume was seven and Aoi was five, they had lacked a strong female presence in the house. Her father had becoming much quieter, opting to retire early to his room most days and growing a bit distant from his children. By any means, their dad didn't _neglect_ them, but there was often a far-off look in his eyes, and he spoke cryptically to them as though his mind were somewhere else. Nevertheless, Aoi loved her father, especially when he let her watch him paint in the solitude of early Saturday mornings, a flurry of colors erupting on a white canvas, something growing out of nothing.

Natsume knew his father loved them, too, but the impact of their loss had hit him hard, and he soon began to act out wildly: growing both cold and hot simultaneously as he fought and swore and bullied. Aoi didn't remember Kaoru that much and learned more about the elusive creature that was her mother through stories from Kaoru's friends rather than Aoi's memories. Aoi was fine, Natsume was not.

Aoi was a tranquil blue, Natsume was a fiery red.

Then Mikan arrived, orange and yellow and red and blue and purple and green; a rainbow, a refractive prism of all the colors in life. At first, she had matched Natsume's fire, and the first couple of years were a lightning storm of sparks and thunder and dark clouds. When Mikan learned she couldn't smother Natsume's fire, she helped him learn to control it. Mikan wasn't a miracle worker, and Natsume still had a long way to go, but it was getting better.

And Mikan helped Aoi, too.

When Aoi had started her period, Mikan had been the one to comfort the crying preteen and sit with her in the bathroom and explain exactly what would happen and what it meant. When Aoi had grown interested in wearing lipstick and eyeshadow, Mikan had rounded up a few of her own female friends, and they all had worked together to help Aoi apply the perfect face, much to Natsume's chagrin who muttered that Aoi still was not old enough for make-up. And when Aoi argued with her brother about how she had matured and could do other, "older" things, Mikan had always, always, _always_ taken her side and scolded Natsume for not being understanding and for not letting young Aoi "blossom into a woman."

Mikan was like the best older sister. Aoi had almost no complaints about her in their lives. (If Aoi had to get _real_ nitpicky and change _one_ thing about her brother's girlfriend… she could be less obvious about she and Natsume were doing his room a lot of the time. Just saying.)

Plus, Aoi hoped she would be able to find a love like theirs one day.

* * *

As a second year, Aoi rarely saw any of the seniors and had to actively seek them out in order to talk to them, but knowing her brother and his gang's habits, she knew exactly where to find them after she had eaten her lunch with her friends.

Since the "dangerous hottie" Natsume Hyuuga was her brother, she wasn't intimidated at all as she entered their "territory," a spot that he and his friends had staked out since they arrived on their first day in their first year at Alice Academy. It was around the back of school, near the gym locker rooms and the metal fence encircling the track, the only spot where there were no security cameras so they could have a cigarette in peace, though Aoi was sure all the school administrators knew they hung out there. (Was that Mikan using her influence as her principal's niece to not get them in trouble?)

Aoi coughed and waved away the gray smoke even though she was pretty used to it. Natsume had started smoking early in his life, and it was only during the past year that Mikan had finally managed to get him to stop smoking.

Still, out of habit, in one hand, he absentmindedly twirled a lighter as he leaned back against the fence, talking with his friends with a slight smile. They were shithead troublemakers, but they weren't bad kids.

"Aoi," her brother greeted curtly as everyone's eyes turned to her. "What do you want?"

"Hello darling brother," Aoi said jokingly with a grin, "I come bearing a present from a fan." With a small flourish, she presented him with Midori's box, which he took with one hand and examined with a critical eye.

"Midori Takahashi from my year hopes you and Mikan will break up soon and wants to court you with this lovely box of chocolates."

At that proclamation, nearly everyone in the circle broke into laughter, cracked a smile, or scoffed like her brother. Yeah, he would never break up with Mikan if he had something to say about it.

She knew all of her brother's friends, and they all knew her. The more clownish ones, Koko and Kitsuneme, were chummy enough to insist on her calling them her "big brothers" as well, which Natsume had responded to with a kick to the ass. Ruka wasn't there to welcome her more openly, but then again, she had heard there was something with his family and he was visiting his father or something. She had always been comfortable with them, and none of them had ever thought of her as a nuisance - except for, well, maybe her brother. Sometimes.

In fact, the only one who didn't seem overly pleased by her presence was her brother's very own prodigy, Youichi, who was nonchalantly puffing on a cigarette and looking at her with unreadable eyes. Bits of memories tried to push their way to the forefront of Aoi's mind, but she ignored them.

Natsume pushed the box of chocolates back into his sister's hands.

"Don't want it." Then he turned away from her, dismissing her without a word. What a cold, cold brother, but Aoi was used to it. She, and others, had to really pick at him and coax him out of his shell to really start talking.

"You could give it to Mikan," Aoi pointed out helpfully, "I'm sure she would appreciate it."

Natsume snorted, turning back to his sister. "And spoil her some more? I've already gotten her _six_ boxes of fluff puffs this week."

"Well, maybe if you didn't forget to bring her to the theaters for a date like you promised, you wouldn't have to make it up to her," Aoi stated matter-of-factly as she went to work opening up the box, making no move at all to leave. "Here, take some of her favorites."

Natsume grunted, just a bit miffed that his sister knew so much about his love life. He appeared to realize how much he was fidgeting and pocketed his lighter as he subtly angled himself and stepped closer to her to carry on an actual conversation.

Tucking the discarded wrapping paper underneath one arm, Aoi opened the box to reveal the chocolate goodies inside. She was actual impressed as she browsed the selection; Midori had bought some quality sweets.

"This one is caramel, this one has raspberry, and oooh, this has coconut inside…"

"Aoi, where am I going to put this? It's just going to melt in my hands."

"Oh, well," Aoi said with a bright smile, "I guess you're just going to have to give her the entire box."

"Stop spoiling her. God knows she already gets what she wants all the time. She's becoming insufferable," he mumbled more to himself.

The slight rawness and edge in Natsume's voice made Aoi pause and tense. Ever since they had met, he had teased Mikan constantly, but… what he just said didn't sound like a joke.

Even so, he took the box of chocolates. Maybe it was a joke.

Aoi smiled and scrunched up her nose teasingly. "Awww, aren't you the sweetest boyfriend."

* * *

Natsume rarely invited anyone back to their house, but when he did, it was the whole gang. The whole gang, except Aoi, of course. It wasn't that she wasn't allowed to come downstairs whenever all the seniors came over; it was just that _raunchy_ tendencies ran in the group, and Aoi didn't want to see that.

Like the good little sister, she stayed upstairs in her room, doing her homework with her headphones in, though sometimes the boisterous laughter managed to filter in.

At least, that's what she was doing until Youichi stumbled into her room abruptly with a slurred, "Hey."

In full honesty, she wasn't surprised to find him in her room. Not after what happened last time. And maybe the time before that.

"Hey," she giggled, sitting up and taking out her earbuds, "are you drunk?"

Youichi shook his head drunkenly. "Nope." He (probably) was drunk.

Aoi had seen him drink many times before and knew he could hold his own despite being so young. And she had seen him in various stages of inebriation; he was still good, but she could predict what he was going to do next.

Sure enough, stepping closer, he took off his shirt and collapsed on her bed, one arm dangling off the edge and the other wrapping around her waist. His skin was hot as she lay down to settle next to him, moving her homework to her night stand.

It wasn't the first time he had found his way into her bed, and it wasn't something that was solely limited to when he was drunk. But he definitely became more forwardly affectionate in these times. Her brother would absolutely destroy the two of them if he ever found out they had been sneaking around and stealing kisses and sleeping ( _just_ sleeping) together for the past few months.

The first time, Youichi, had been even more inebriated and had simply crashed in her room, knocking out on her pillow, before Aoi could even say anything. Then he apologized to her the morning after, sober and awake and aware of what he had done. But soon, it happened again and before long, both of them decided they liked the feel of sleeping next to each other and maybe even just the feel of each other.

Youichi snuggled into her neck as she moved to lay more comfortably, one hand going to stroke his back soothingly out of habit. Sure enough, it was clear he wanted to do more than just snuggle as he slipped his hands somewhere that would have ended his existence if Natsume saw, moving to hover over Aoi, sloppily kissing her to the best of his abilities. Aoi didn't mind; it made her feel oh so colorful: intense pinks and deep greens and, of course, soft blues.

"Do you want to?" he whispered, his intentions implicit in the way he moved against her.

She shook her head and answered truthfully: "Not when you're drunk."

Youichi chuckled a bit before he rested his head next to hers, content to simply be together, humming a mindless tune. As they had several nights before, they fell asleep together, curled up next to one another.

* * *

Her entire world had lightened, bleached with the early morning sun. It was bright white, pure.

He slept shirtless on his stomach, in the same position he had stayed all night, his entire back on display. He must work out; although he wasn't completely toned, Aoi could see the beginning definitions of muscle that would grow if he continued.

They were together.

Then the door opened.

Neither brother nor sister said anything as Youichi carried on contently sleeping. Natsume's jaw clenched. All Aoi could do was sit up and stare at him, wide-eyed and tense and not breathing. Youichi's arm still hung loosely and innocently around her waist. They hadn't had sex, but it certainly did seem so.

Then the storm was unleashed.

" _No!_ " roared Natsume, tearing a startled Youichi away and off his baby sister's bed. Quick to regain his senses and obviously knowing better, Youichi hurriedly grabbed his shirt off Aoi's desk and scrambled out the door. Natsume made to move after him, but Aoi leapt to her feet and grabbed his arm.

"Natsume!" Still, Aoi's petite frame was no match for her older brother's strength as he continued on his rampage after Youichi.

"Not in this house!" he bellowed, thundering down the stairs.

"Stop that!"

"Too young! You're too young!"

"We weren't doing anything!"

"He was in your _bed_!"

For the first time in her life, Aoi felt red.

* * *

Aoi did not cry; she refused to shed tears over such a _stupid_ misunderstanding. Still, she focused intently on the gray cinder blocks outlining the Hyuugas' pathetic excuse for a garden in their backyard in order to _force_ her eyes to not well up.

In the background, she heard the back door slide open and close.

"Hey there, girly," said Mikan softly, coming out of the house and sitting next to her. She embraced Aoi by sliding an arm over the younger girl's shoulders. Instinctively, Aoi leaned her head onto Mikan, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"I talked to him." Her brother's girlfriend actually rolled her eyes at the memory of her conversation with Natsume. "He's just upset that his precious baby sister is finally finding a boy. Especially since that boy is his own little prodigy."

"We weren't doing anything inappropriate!" Aoi protested once more in outrage. "Honestly, we were sleeping in the same bed together. Youichi's like family. It sounds weird to say that, but we're just close."

"I know," Mikan reassured her, "I know."

* * *

"I don't think we should do this anymore," said Youichi over the phone. He had called and gotten straight to the point, which honestly didn't surprise Aoi. He was much like her brother in that aspect: succinct and direct. "I don't think it's fair to your brother. And also, I really do not want to get whooped again." Youichi laughed a bit to lighten the mood, and Aoi laughed, too.

Aoi was all right. For most of her life, she had borne witness to what she considered a great love story: Natsume and Mikan.

If it didn't work out, it didn't. Eventually, she would find someone who would be perfect for her, who would slide right into her life and simply click.

She would find a love like Natsume and Mikan's.

* * *

She found him smoking out back, two other cigarettes already done and crushed into a stone that acted as an ashtray.

A bit of guilt pinched her heart; Aoi knew how hard her brother had worked to stop smoking, and here he was, ruining his clean streak. Then fury inflamed her. It wasn't her fault he had misunderstood the situation, it wasn't her fault he overreacted and stressed about nothing.

 _It wasn't her fault._

Still, her first words when she went to stand next to him were: "I'm sorry to make you pick up smoking again."

Natsume shook his head. "No, it's not you. I did go a little overboard about the whole Youichi thing, but I don't think about it anymore." He peered up at the sky thoughtfully, mouth in a small, tight grimace. "There are other things."

Aoi blinked. "Oh." She paused. She had meant to simply clear the air between them., but Natsume seemed distraught, lost even. "Do you want to talk about those things? It's okay if you don't want to, but… I mean, you're my brother and I want to know what's going on and I care about you and all that." Despite what had happened with Youichi, they were still family.

Natsume rubbed a palm against the side of his face, across his jawline. "It's Mikan, Aoi."

At 15 years old, watching her own brother fall in love and become a perfect couple with Mikan, Aoi was a honest-to-goodness, wholehearted believer in love.

The dream of falling in love, the true kind, kept her afloat. If it didn't work, it wasn't meant to be. Someday she would find someone who fit into her life as though they had always been a part of her. That was her mantra.

But then her brother uttered those cruel words, 'I'm going to go talk to her tonight. I think we might break up."

If her brother's love story, the fairy tale she dreamed about, didn't work out, what hope was there for her?

* * *

"You _can't_ break up with her!" Aoi screeched, futilely tugging on his arm, trying to get him to not leave.

"Aoi," he said resignedly, searching for his keys so he didn't have to look his baby sister in the eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen tonight. We might break up, we might not. We're just going to talk."

His calm rationality made her even more hysteric. "That's what they all say! They say, 'We need to talk,' and then it's, 'It's not working out,' and before you know it, you're going to say, 'We need to talk a break,' then you'll see other people, and then it's just over!" Knowing her reaction was slightly overboard, Aoi played her most vulnerable and most guilt-tripping card: "I don't want another sister. I want Mikan."

"Even if we do break up, you two can still be friends," he said patiently, finding his keys and putting on his jacket, nearly out the door. "She's a good influence and a good role model. I would hope you grow up to be like her." He smirked, and Aoi nearly thrashed him for making light of the situation. "Except for the idiot part."

* * *

They were gone for three days.

Natsume had texted her during the middle of the night, hours after leaving for Mikan's house, "We're going away for a bit. Don't worry about us." Mikan had left a hastily scribbled note on the counter for her grandfather, who surprisingly was managing to keep calm. Even more calm than Aoi.

"How are you just sitting there?" yelled Aoi across the empty dinner table. Without Natsume, without Mikan, without any friends, it was just her and her father, who was nonchalantly and distractedly (as usual) eating his rice.

In times of true crisis, their father had always snapped out of his fog and stepped up. He taught Natsume how to drive and how to handle overturning a car in the middle of the night. He listened to Aoi's teary explanations of how she got those bruises on the playground and which mean girls picked on her and had actually imparted some wisdom and called the principal. He welcomed Mikan into the family when she and Natsume had gotten serious.

Yet, there he was with a son who had gone God knows where and a screeching daughter, and all he did was pick up a piece of eggplant and chew it.

Thankfully, Aoi's worry soon dissipated as Natsume (perfect timing!) walked through the door, looking no worse for the wear, slipping off his shoes and hanging his jacket on the rack as casually as though he had come back from school instead of a three day disappearance.

Aoi jumped out of her chair, her chopsticks clanging on the table. "Natsume!"

"Welcome home, Natsume," their father finally spoke, turning around calmly to look at his son, "are you gonna eat dinner here?"

Without even an apology or an explanation, Natsume nodded and prepared himself a bowl of rice. Though fatigue creased his face, he stood tall and unbattered.

Aoi could not believe it; her lungs and her heart were about to burst from holding back so much emotion and so many questions. She played his little game and sat back down, staring at Natsume, willing him to say something.

What happened? Where had he gone? Were he and Mikan still together?

Yet instead, Natsume simply ate, making light conversation with their father, picking up and doing the dishes afterwards.

She wasn't afforded an explanation until later that night, back again on the backyard porch, underneath a black sky. Her questions flooded out, but Natsume absorbed them all silently.

"Well?" she prodded after at least a minute. "What happened?"

"Aoi," he started gently, "sometimes people aren't meant for each other."

She internally screamed, shooting to her feet in shock.

"Okay, maybe I shouldn't have started -"

Apparently, she was also _externally_ screaming as well, but it was a jumbled mess that even she couldn't understand.

"Aoi, _listen_ ," he hissed, firmly sitting her down, the roughness surprising her, "I want you to know this and learn from us." He looked her directly in the eyes, and Aoi knew it was going to be another one of those honest brother to sister moments.

"The pressure was getting to both of us. At first, I loved how much she cared for our family, about me, but lately… she just seemed overbearing and controlling. I was always wrong, she was always right. God, she was so self righteous, I remembered why I didn't like her when I first met her. I _was_ ready to call a break, but then we started talking and we both decided we need a break from everyone else. We went to the beach at her uncle's old summer home. We aren't perfect, but we choose to stay together. That's what's l want to tell you: you don't just fall in love and expect everything to work right away. Sometimes people aren't meant for each other, but because they try to love each other and care enough, they end up together anyway.

"And that's why we need to talk, too, Aoi." He sucked in a breath, looked as though he desperately yearned for a cigarette. "I know I was too hard on both you and Youichi. I said some things I probably shouldn't have so I just want to make sure you know that if you want to be with Youichi or any other boy… don't let me get in the way if you think it's worth it."

Aoi was a little puzzled. "Thanks, Natsume, but Youichi called it off so you don't have to worry for a while."

Natsume stared her straight in the eyes, obviously not amused. "Jesus, were you not just listening? I thought I was imparting some serious wisdom that if you want to make a relationship work, you both have to put in work and not give up on it."

 _Uh…._ Aoi's palms started sweating as she suddenly heated up.

"Okay, yeah, but Youichi doesn't want to even make it work," she argued with a frown. What was he saying?

Natsume lifted his hand and flicker her right on the forehead, eliciting a distraught, "Ow!" from his baby sister.

"I didn't realize I would have to explain things so outright; you're supposed to be the smart one in the family. You don't think I convinced Youichi to give up on you? That kid really likes you, Aoi, and I know you like him, too. You wouldn't let just any boy into your room like that, especially when he's drunk. Make it work."

* * *

Afterwards, Aoi held a newfound reverence for her brother and his girlfriend.

At school, she still saw the perfect power couple: the lovey-dovey moments, the misplaced tender moments where they connected even amidst the crowd and the rush, the way they both looked out for each other.

But it meant so much more knowing how much effort and how much love they put into making every moment count.

It meant so much more knowing they could have not been together, but instead _chose_ to share their lives. They might still not end up with each other (they were still teenagers!), but for the time being, their love was enough.

* * *

" _Hey Youichi_."


	4. Drops of Jupiter

_**Surprise.**_

* * *

" _Natsume!_ "

At the sound of his wife's screech, Natsume sighed just a little bit. He momentarily toyed with the idea of running away from her again before he decided to actually do it. Blinking his lizard eyes once, he rose on his stout legs and started to scurry away on the rocks, his striped red tail swishing behind him, the heat of the dark rocks not bothering his four feet.

Skitting over moss and avoiding the deep crevices between the rocks, he had almost made it to the sand when very confident fingers firmly picked him up right around his leathery middle. He squirmed and squirmed, but she had already predicted his behavior and knew how to hold him so he wouldn't escape.

She cupped the twisting lizard with both hands, a solid grip on him, holding him up to her annoyed brown eyes.

He flicked his tongue out at her.

"Natsume Hyuuga," she said exasperatedly like a mom scolding her young child, "you promised Narumi _and_ me that we would go to the meeti - hey, hey, look at me! Natsume, look at me!" He squirmed even more in an attempt to escape her, but she was relentless, trying to maintain eye contact; he was very good at avoiding anything he didn't want.

She kept moving him around so she look him directly in the eye, but he simply kept turning his head. And he insolently flicked his tongue out at her again!

With a scowl, his wife harrumphed. "If that's the way you want to do it, Natsume, then we'll go right now!" she threatened, already dressed in her ceremonial gown and robes.

Instantly, Natsume transformed into his preferred human form, dragging his wife's hands down with a surprised "Oomph!" as she landed on top of him, her chin hitting his chest, her hands trapped beneath his suddenly heavier body, and thankfully he had managed to roll them onto the sand and not onto the rocks.

"I don't want to go," he whined with a pout he only showed to his wife. "I already went to one this year. Can't we skip this one?"

Disregarding the slightly uncomfortable position, she chided him: "It is my duty as your wife to ensure you go to all _three_ divine conferences each year." Her eyes softened, and her voice lowered. "It's written in our marriage contract, and we could not have been together without it."

"And I'm already regretting it," he muttered underneath his breath, not intending to hurt but rather to tease. Maybe he could distract her long enough to miss the meeting all together...

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," he said innocently, blinking up at her. Sometimes he forgot how sharp she was, especially with those big, expressive brown eyes that held no malice for anybody… and her adorable heart-shaped face that emanated youth and vitality and happiness… and those lips of hers...

He rolled her over gently so they lay side by side, careful not to crush her hand underneath him, his hand propping up his head as his other stroked her cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered to her, and he could feel the tension seep out of her body as she relaxed into his touch. "I want to stay with you forever."

She closed her eyes as he threaded his hand into her long brown hair, brushing it away from her face, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sand, hearing the consistent lullaby of the waves softly kissing the land. No matter how much they bickered, every day with Natsume felt like paradise.

She didn't even open her eyes as she said resolutely, "We're still going."

Natsume rolled onto his back with a groan, slipping his hand from her, his attempts of distraction futile, before shifting into a creature even smaller than before, a salamander, and made his loving wife carry the tiny glaring amphibian in her hands all the way back to their home.

* * *

"Mikan!" greeted the God of Love as she entered the sacred temple. The young brunette woman flashed him a smile and responded with a kiss on both of his cheeks. "How lovely to see you."

Narumi, the ever so affectionate god, squished her cheeks with his hands and cooed adoringly. "You grow more gorgeous by the day. Natsume is a lucky god to have caught your eye. Ah, where is he?"

Mikan continued to smile out of politeness - even for her tastes, Narumi was a bit too touchy-feely, but she supposed it only made sense given his abilities, the emitter of pheromones, the maker of matches. The growing heat radiating from the still grumpy reptile currently curled up in her hidden pocket on her chest informed her that she wasn't the only one displeased by Narumi's seeming lack of boundaries.

She gently gave the pocket over her left breast a tap. "He's close to my heart, as always." Natsume peeked his little black scaly head out just a bit and flicked his tongue out irately.

"Rude as always, I see," sighed Narumi, but his smile never faltered. Natsume had come at least! What a delight! The gods knew they had made a fantastically genius decision to write in this stipulation into Natsume's marriage contract.

"Oh, there's Rei over there! I'm trying to set him up with Nobara," he whispered to Mikan conspiratorially, pointing out the God of Death and the God of Snow, "but the connection between them has been, how do you say, a bit cold and dead. Nevertheless I try. Oh, darling, just look at her, too shy to make a move, and him, too oblivious to even notice. I must go help those poor unfortunate souls. Adieu!"

Narumi flounced away, ready to meddle in others' affairs. Mikan smiled. Though Mikan couldn't handle Narumi's extravagance sometimes, she was still fond of the God of Love; after all, he did bring her Natsume.

As she scanned the temple for familiar faces (the God of Dreams greeted her cheerfully with a wave, inadvertently spilling sand as golden as his hair, and the God of Time nodded cordially at her, looking a bit fuzzy and muddled), she felt Natsume slither out of her pocket and up to her shoulder. The cloth of their ceremonial dress was thick, but he made himself grow bigger and heavier as he wormed out of the small space and changed shape until he reached the size of a regular-sized snake, thin and long, but only enough so he could perch on her shoulder and whisper into her ear.

"We could still leave," Natsume hissed, curling around the cartilage of her ear so his tongue tickled the sensitive tiny hairs near her ear canal. "We showed up. We don't need to sit through another excruciating meeting about _politics_ and _updates_."

Mikan ignored her husband. If he wanted to sulk, that was his choice, but she took her responsibilities very seriously as the wife of the God of Fire, which included ensuring the God of Fire took _his_ responsibilities very seriously.

The second divine conference of the year coincidentally took place in the sacred temple of Mikan's motherland, and although she had grown up devout, saying her prayers and worshipping the gods as dictated by custom, until she had met Natsume, Mikan had never glimpsed the world of the Gods: secret rooms invisible to the mortal eye, magical abilities beyond imagination, shapeshifting husbands.

The room in which the divine conference took place was not exactly in the temple per say, but rather in a dimension slightly reflected off of the mortal one, accessible only through special powers; powers that Mikan now possessed through her marriage to Natsume. With those powers came the privilege of having a seat (albeit a shared seat) at the conference table, an actual tangible table in the middle of a room with equal seating for all gods. There obviously were some gods who took the initiative to provide leadership and run the conferences and create agendas and take care of all the logistics, but then there were some like Natsume, who shirked his duties whenever possible and refused to join any committee despite the requirement. Because of that, Mikan had to take up his slack, but it was no issue for her; the other gods respected her and treated her as one of their own.

She wasn't the only non-god nor human in the room; of course, other gods brought partners and… pets. The God of Animals, one of Natsume's best friends actually, was conspicuously absent in the room, but Mikan had garnered enough from overheard conversations that he had been excused since it was currently mating season for a large portion of animals in the world at the moment; something Ruka had to ensure went smoothly. Everywhere he went, Ruka always brought along an entire entourage of animals that adored him and that Mikan enjoyed playing with.

Of course, though, the gods undeniably had a darker side, and some of them… did take humans as pets. Or as sacrifices.

Mikan tried to avoid those gods.

Thankfully, though, there a lot of gods she got along with, probably better than Natsume did since he could be antisocial at times.

The God of Shadows called out to her from the opposite of the room, waving her down with a big smile, "Mikan! You can sit by me!"

Before Mikan could acknowledge his offer or worse, run and hug her favorite elder god, Natsume saw the impending disaster and immediately took action by flashing into his human form and tugging his naive wife away from that slimy, womanizing God of Shadows, _Tsubasa_.

"Nope," he muttered underneath his breath, corralling a protesting Mikan with one arm around her shoulders, "we are going to sit here next to nice old lady Serina and harmless little Youichi. There we go."

The God of Foresight frowned at Natsume as he pulled out the chair next to her and plopped his wife in it. "I'm not that old," she snapped at him, but with little intended malice.

Young Youichi, God of Souls, waved at his favorite couple with a pudgy hand, preferring to remain in a form of a human three year-old ("I dislike the meetings as much as your husband," he had told Mikan flatly, "so if I'm in the form of a baby, people won't ask me stupid things, and I won't have to talk as much. Duh."). Natsume greeted his favorite little prodigy with a nod before using a little bit of magic to expand the seat he had chosen so he could settle comfortably next to his wife.

From across the table, Tsubasa snickered at the God of Fire's very apparent display of jealousy. He loved to rile Natsume up. Mikan smiled at him apologetically and waved at him, and Tsubasa smiled back. Natsume glared at him, then pulled Mikan to his chest and started whispering feverishly into his wife's ear, causing a heavy blush to arise on Mikan's cheeks and neck. After a few moments, Natsume grasping her firmly, Mikan just about melted in his arms with hooded eyes, leaning against him heavily and placing one hand on his knee. Natsume kissed her cheek.

"You two are so gross," scolded Youichi childishly with a scowl. "Why do you sit next to me if you're going to be like this?"

* * *

They met when she was seven months old during a particularly icy winter (Nobara, God of Snow, had been super sensitive that year and had gone into a spiral of self-loathing and insecurity that she thankfully recovered from with help and support from many of the other gods). Mikan had caught the shivers, worrying her parents and her grandfather and her village. They prayed to the gods, they swaddled her in blankets, they administered tonics and potions - and they kept her in front of the fire.

For almost every day that winter, when the little baby Mikan looked into the fire, Natsume was looking back.

Mainly out of irritation because for almost every day that winter because Mikan screamed and cried and fussed _all day long_. If Natsume were a more cruel god, he would have reached out with tendrils of fire or smoke to end the nuisance. But he wasn't one of those gods.

At worst, though, out of spite, he _might_ have given her a heat rash (which he felt immensely guilty for and had apologized to her. One time.).

Natsume simply lived with it and watched her as the fire in her family's hearth. He found that she was less irritating when he sparked and crackled, and she would stop crying and actually start laughing when he changed colors or made little smoke animals that ran up to her and disappeared when she tried to grasp them.

Then one night she got worse. She had been crying all day, and little by little, she grew quieter until by nightfall, she was silent. Her mother called the medicine man, who examined her by candlelight. Up close, Natsume could see how unresponsive and still she had become.

Admittedly, she was just one human of many. She was just one sick baby out of billions throughout history. Natsume had seen humans come and go, begin and end, live and die.

Maybe he was just lonely. Or maybe it was because he didn't have many friends. Or maybe it was because he had spent so much time with her, almost more than he had with any mortal in his eternal life, and she was just a _baby_. It could have also been because her grandfather was such a devoted worshipper to him, and her village had maintained the shrine to him very well over the years.

Most likely, it was because of all of those reasons that he decided to visit the God of Death, and despite Natsume's inherent disdain and despise for Persona, he cut a deal with him for her life.

And deals with Persona always came at a heavy price. Natsume would never reveal to Mikan the specifics of the deal, even after decades of marriage, but Mikan knew the price was pretty hefty, judging from how he never talked about it, not even during their worst arguments.

All of the village rejoiced at Mikan's miraculous healing the next day, praising the whole litany of gods, letting Natsume's entire realm of godly acquaintances know exactly what he had done: the God of Fire finally picking favorites in the mortal realm. His best friend, Tsubasa, Narumi, Koko, Yuu, and even one of the Three Muses (Hotaru, Muse of Invention) had nagged him endlessly about why he was suddenly so soft toward a human. He was _still_ getting teased about it to this day, despite being married to the grown-up version of that baby.

(She was still kinda a baby. She acted like one sometimes.)

* * *

Natsume showed up in her life once more when she was ten years old. It wasn't winter, but summer. As God of Fire, he ensured the heat over the land was bearable, livable, but still strong enough to be called a summer. Of course, while watching over the land, he also watched over his favorite mortal.

Mikan had finished harvesting the watermelons for the day, completing her task earlier than most of the other children in the village her age. She was a dedicated hard worker who relentlessly strove to do her best, disregarding all obstacles. Her stubbornness and her determined antics had brought him amusement often.

Satisfied with her day's work, she called around her village, seeing if any other children wanted to play. Some did, but were quickly pulled back by their parents to their chores. Being the generous and kind soul she was, even as a child, she volunteered to help others: feeding the animals, tending the gardens, carrying buckets of water.

But for some reason, everyone was too engrossed in their own work and nobody needed any extra hands.

Glumly, she sulked around her house, where even her grandfather had finished his work (but was unfortunately taking a nap). She even resorted to picking up a stick and drawing squiggly lines in the dirt, but she wanted to _play_! She wanted to move!

With a heartbroken sigh and a frustrated groan, she threw the stick to the side and decided to go for a walk. Along the way, she greeted all the other villagers, who greeted her back warmly but shortly because they had their own work to do.

Keeping her own self company, she hummed a little happy tune her grandfather loved. At that moment, Natsume had already kept an observant eye on her mood and her actions. Of course, he was still tending to the summer heat over the land, but… this was the mortal he bargained with the God of Death for; obviously, he had to watch her. He couldn't have her dying all over again and waste his gift.

As a god, Natsume had many abilities, one of which enabled him to hear the thoughts of mortals should he choose to. Often, he was tempted to enter the mind of Mikan, just to see what kind of circus was taking place, but he respected her privacy and actually began a little game with himself to guess what she was thinking through her expressions.

Her face carried such innocence, such openness, such easiness, even for a child. She could never (and probably would never be able to) hide her feelings or her thoughts if she wanted to.

Right now, she was enjoying herself and the sunshine (and the pleasant warmth tickling her skin), but her thoughts were still focused on looking for something to do or for someone to play with.

Then she came across the shrines.

Her parents raised Mikan piously, attributing her salvation as an act of the gods (which was true) so it was only natural to her to stop to pay her respects and to pray.

Ever since the post-healing festivities when she was a baby, her village had happily cleaned up their temple and all their shrines. With Natsume's intervention came a great deal of intrigue; why, after centuries, did the God of Fire finally make such a blatant display of favoritism? Most of the gods, particularly those who personally knew Natsume and his indifference and his coldness (ha) to mortal affairs, grew interested. Natsume thought the amount of attention paid to the tiny village by the gods was absurdly high.

It was just one act of kindness. It was just one baby.

But Natsume wasn't quite thinking objectively or rationally. Of course, with increased worshipping, the gods _had_ to notice the tiny village; increased devotion meant more pleased gods, and with more pleased gods came their gifts and their boons: fresh water, bountiful harvests, wonderful weather, lack of sickness, _happiness_.

"Hello, it's me again, Mikan. How are you doing?" Natsume wasn't sure what god she was calling upon; it could have been him, it could not have. Either way, he listened. "I hope you are having a wonderful day! Thank you very much for the day. Um, I really like the sun and how warm it is today."

Natsume smirked. With her gratitude, a small form of worship, he could feel himself become more invested in her situation. Anytime any mortal expressed praise or visited a shrine, a little tickle caught the gods' attention. Most of the time, most gods ignored it, except when the worship was directed toward them.

In this case, Natsume was to thank for the warmth. The God of the Sun most likely acknowledged her thanks as well.

On a whim, Natsume sent a silent heat wave (just a little one) toward Mikan, right into her body, right into her heart. Her smile grew just a bit as she felt a pleasant warmth spread in her chest; maybe the gods were listening...

"Thank you for keeping me alive. I really love life and being alive!"

Another point for him. Well, technically, it was a point to the God of Life, but _technically_ , she was alive because of him.

Natsume idly circled above her, his presence happily thrumming. He would never say it explicitly, but he had a huge ego that he absolutely loved to have stroked.

"Thank you for my happy family. I really love my parents and my grandpa. I really love everything I have in life. Um… I don't want to be selfish, but I want to ask you for something."

Since Mikan hadn't indicated a recipient, Natsume supposed he _could_ answer her prayer. But at the same time, he wondered who else was listening; who else was watching her?

"Please send me a friend I can play with."

Suddenly, Natsume felt a strong push from behind, air whooshing past his ears.

Uselessly, he tried to resist against the wind, the strange force pulling at him. It flipped him, it twisted him, it took the breath out of his lungs.

 _Oh fuck no_.

Was it the God of Wind? Because Natsume would _murder_ Hayate after this.

"Umph!" he grunted, landing on the dirt hard, his jaws shutting and teeth hitting each other because of the impact. If he didn't have the breath knocked out of him earlier, he did now. By the gods, his body hurt. Not to mention, the curious aching sensation in his joints.

"Are you okay?" came a muffled voice, as though they were underwater and very far apart.

"What?" he groaned, fighting against the bright sunlight to open his eyes.

The voice grew clearer and more familiar: "You just fell out of the sky!"

Thankfully, a shadow fell over his face, and he could open his eyes to look straight up at the face of Mikan, who loomed over him curiously. She reached down to lend him a hand, which he accepted as she helped pull him up.

Pull him up to her height. He could look her right in the eye. He looked down at his body and scowled. Of course.

He was stuck in the body of a ten year-old human. Natsume pushed against the physical restraints limiting him to that body, but the magic he felt surrounding him was not his own; it felt syrupy, drawing to mind heady love potions and sickly sweet affection.

 _Narumi._

"What are you doing here?" asked Mikan breathlessly. He had fallen out of the _sky_!

Natsume decided honestly was the best policy. His favorite human was a bit slow, but she wasn't _dumb._ She probably wouldn't understand any sarcasm he used on her, either. Maybe in a few years' time, but not when she was still barely a kid. "I was sent by the gods. You asked for a friend to play with. Well, here I am."

Her eyes grew wide and she sucked in a breath. " _Really?_ They heard that?!"

"Yes, the gods can hear and see most things," Natsume smirked, "including your polka-dotted underwear."

She glared the sky in anger, and even though he had taken mortal form, Natsume could still hear her thoughts: _Dear gods, next time, send me a less perverted friend!_

Natsume liked seeing her so worked up, but he liked to see her happy as well. "You want to go play?" he offered.

Pervertness forgotten, Mikan exclaimed "Yes!" and reached for his hand so she could tug him along as they ran toward the creek.

* * *

"Any other new business?" asked Yuu, the God of Dreams. Though he appeared non-threatening and friendly, when he really wanted to, he could radiate an aura of authority and control that nobody dared question. "No? Then I declare the second divine conference in the Year of the Dragon concluded."

With those words, some gods chose to take their exit, disappearing elsewhere through instant teleportation, while others chose to mingle and catch up with some of their friends they hadn't seen in a while or ask for favors.

"That wasn't so bad. We finished earlier than we expected," said Mikan good-naturedly, rising from her seat. Natsume scowled at her.

"It was still an _hour_ of my time, an hour of my life wasted." Mikan ignored her husband's grumbles, which only made him grumble more because he _hated_ being ignored. Like why would she _not_ want to talk to him? "Ugh. Hold me."

Before he could transform into another one of his animal forms, Mikan suddenly reached for his hand. She flashed him a grin, the special one intended to melt his heart. The world slowed down as he admired the magnificent view.

She stepped closer to her husband, the grin still on her face, as she laced her fingers with his, holding both of his hands in between them. Mikan didn't even need to speak; all she had to do was stand there with that smile and blink slowly at him, brown eyes peering up at him through her lashes. She coyly looked down before returning to look at him, biting the corner of her lip.

Oh, she was good.

Natsume didn't complain any more as he followed her like a puppy, leashed by their connected hands.

* * *

Natsume hadn't really anticipated having a domestic life. Sure, some gods chose to marry each other or settle down, especially since Narumi seemed to be on the warpath, pairing up as many gods as he saw fit.

But Natsume had been so alone for so long. He controlled fire, which burned everyone who got close. He didn't need anyone else to warm his bed. He was independent; what more could he need in his life?

Of course he couldn't have imagined himself settling down with a wife, much less a human one.

But now that he was in it, he couldn't really imagine any other life for himself.

They were in their home, Mikan cooking and Natsume resting, already having finished the cleaning and the renewal of the protection wards to safeguard their house.

It was nice. And it was happy.

Natsume perked up, looking up from his manga (childish, yes, but extremely enjoyable) to slowly scan the limited view allowed by the windows of the outside.

"Who is it?" asked Mikan, one hand on the handle of the skillet, the other holding a wooden spatula to stir the beef around.

Natsume's answer was confusing: "It's not someone, but it's someone." Then he took his legs off the table and walked toward the front door, but once he reached it, he stopped and turned back around.

Mikan tasted her cooking, then added more pepper.

A perplexed Natsume dashed up the stairs, his loud footsteps not bothering his wife. Sometimes, she swore he behaved like a cat, going anywhere he wanted and acting unpredictably.

After several seconds of walking back and forth upstairs, he came back down the stairs. "I can't find it," he muttered, going toward the back of the house. He returned to the kitchen, scratching the back of his head, looking both disgruntled and intrigued.

Mikan turned off the stove, gave her skillet once last shake to stir things around, and began to empty the contents onto a serving plate. Natsume walked right past her. Then, he paused, mid-step and rewound himself back to her.

He leaned in and began lifting her hair and pulling at her clothes, making Mikan a bit peeved with the sudden disturbance.

"What are you doing?" She lightly whacked his hand with the still oily spatula.

"You seeing someone?" he asked suspiciously, ignoring her question and sniffing about her hair.

Mikan glared at him. A long time ago, Natsume would have been the one offended by his implication, but he had long learned to erase his insecurities; after all, why would Mikan ever want someone who wasn't him? He was so great.

But he still got a bit jealous when there was someone real and tangible and utterly nefarious, like _Tsubasa_ , who seemed intent on leading his naive wife down a dark path. She was too trusting for her own good; of course, he needed to protect her from Tsubasa's licentious clutches.

Natsume continued to search his wife's body, trying to find that _smell_ of someone else, fingers going lower and lower, tickling Mikan, who giggled and was still unsure if this maybe was Natsume's new method of seduction.

He kneeled down and turned Mikan around against her cry of protest, still holding the skillet and the spatula, so she wasn't facing the stove anymore, and suddenly, he found it.

Natsume was paralyzed for a moment, then he looked up in awe at his puzzled wife. Gingerly, he pressed his ear against her tummy.

There wasn't a heartbeat yet, but there was _someone_ there; a barely there, a barely formed, demi-god presence.

Of course, Mikan couldn't hear or feel what Natsume could so there she stood, her husband acting strange, pressing his face against her stomach, whispering to it.

"What?" she finally asked. Then she figured it out, arriving at the correct conclusion but in astonishment. She hadn't noticed anything changing, and she certainly couldn't feel anything. She put down her cooking utensils to place her hand on her tummy as well.

Mikan wanted confirmation: "Natsume, are we having a baby?"

"It's so new," murmured Natsume. He turned to face her tummy. "Hey there, little one."

* * *

The birth went smoothly; with all the gods' blessings on their side, how could it not? Unfortunately, it was not the birth Natsume and Mikan had to worry about.

It was the child-rearing.

Mikan shrieked. "Put it out, put it out! Natsume, do something! Those are my favorite curtains!"

"What am I supposed to do?" roared Natsume, his powers clashing against his son's, "Add _more_ fire?! It's _his_ fire, not mine!"

Their baby gurgled with delight, slapping his hands together with enthusiasm, watching the pretty flames destroy his mother's nice furniture. He fell over with laughter.


	5. eastside

**a short story**

* * *

When they were eleven years old, he kissed her in the third to last row of the school bus. It was nothing special, nothing momentous. He simply took her hand and leaned in for no more than three seconds.

She blushed and blinked and sputtered a bit, but she didn't scream or throw a fit or announce it to the entire world. In fact, she kept it a secret close to her heart for a few weeks until she confessed it to her mother, who simply grinned and explained some of the new wonders of womanhood.

They weren't anything extraordinary, just a boy and a girl, two city kids growing up. She wasn't thinking of marriage, he didn't even know what a romantic relationship was. They didn't kiss again for a few years, and they didn't tell anyone else until it came out one night during a birthday party sleepover when their friend Sumire turned 13.

But when they were eleven years old, they wouldn't know that.

* * *

At seventeen years old, Natsume had gotten better at getting to where he needed to go. On days when he couldn't take his father's car to school, he hopped over fences and ducked through alleyways.

He traversed through the city easily as though he were made from it: cement bones, tall as a skyscraper, warm like the stone soaking up sunshine, just a bit cracked at the edges.

He knew where to go and how to get there because every so often, without any formal planning, he felt her call, all the way from the east side of town.

On days where the sun slowly set, its last glorious rays of orange, red, pink refusing to die like the joviality of youth, he found her, never quite in the same spot twice. Sometimes, she'd be by the warehouses near the docks or by the abandoned train station or hidden underneath the bridge.

It was hard to miss her in her uncle's flashy American car: an Admiral Blue 1994 Corvette.

She'd have the engine running, waiting just long enough to relax but not long enough to run out of battery, as though she had only arrived a few minutes ago.

As though _he_ had been the one calling her as he traveled 22 minutes from his home by foot to meet her.

He didn't even hesitate as he opened the passenger door and slid in, slinging his backpack around to place it by his feet. He would buckle his seatbelt as she put the car in gear. They would sit in silence as she directed them out of the city and towards wherever they were headed.

It was usually the coast. The drive would last for as long as the sun would set, and by the time they arrived at her uncle's rarely used beach house, the stars would be out, the darkness already settled like an old, cold cup of tea.

Two city kids trying to find something greater together.

* * *

Mikan had outgrown her home city by a few years, left it behind right when she graduated high school.

At 26 years old, though, she had had her share of adventure and freedom. She had seen the world, she had tried different occupations, she had studied, she had occupied different spaces, she had lived.

Now she had returned. The drive from the town where her best friend lived took most of the day; she had left early that morning and driven through the afternoon, stopping only for the restroom or for a meal.

As soon as she entered the city outskirts, even though there had been development and renovations throughout the years, she still remembered where to go. She had memorized her the address of her new apartment, written it down several times for her friends, and had the GPS going on her phone to direct her.

She did not get lost on her way. She did not have any trouble entering her apartment complex. She did not lose her keys. She did not break any of her belongings moving them up five floors.

Her uncle would welcome her back the next morning, most likely coming with a gift for her newly furnished apartment, and she already planned to introduce herself to the neighbors sometime later the next day.

Although she still had yet to unpack anything, she knew she couldn't stay in her apartment: the sun was setting.

She didn't know if he would be there; she hadn't truly _talked_ to him in two years, and the years before, they had shared spotty communication, only briefly updating each other on their lives.

But they knew better now. Somehow, they had always known. Somehow, in their search for something greater, the two city kids grew up enough to realize they already had it.

So despite only having been in her home city for 37 minutes, despite only having arrived at her new home 25 minutes ago, despite not having messaged or talked to Natsume since his birthday last fall, she went to the east side of town.

Somehow, she knew he wouldn't be at any of their past meeting spots; and sure enough, right when the last bright speck of the sun had disappeared over the horizon, leaving remnant trails of orange, red, pink, purple, she found him once again, leaning over the railing overlooking the city's manmade lake.

From behind, he looked just as he did when he was a teenager: dark hair, white shirt, denim jeans. Dusk settling in rapidly, the fluorescent lights illuminated the silhouette of his figure as she walked towards him, each step in rhythm with each beat of her heart.

It was him, of course; it was not a case of mistaken identity.

"Hello again."


	6. Foldin' Clothes

**a continuous story**

* * *

Despite what many people might think about him initially, Natsume Hyuuga was a hard worker.

His hair might perpetually be messy, his attitude forever insolent, and his face always stoic, but unbeknownst to most, he cared a lot and dedicated himself to what he knew was good.

However, of course, while he was diligent in his work, he was never too ambitious. He didn't ask much for in life, considering he grew up in an "underserved" neighborhood with "problematic" classmates, which was why he found himself pleasantly surprised at age 27 to be contently folding the clothes of him and his pregnant girlfriend, Mikan Sakura, currently happily napping on the couch, curled up on her left side, two pillows tucked beneath her head, her humongous swollen belly taking up most of the space.

Natsume was quietly organizing his dress shirts into one pile, his regular T-shirts in another, and Mikan's myriad sundresses by preference (and her underwear by his preference). Long ago, when they had moved in together, Mikan had insisted on buying at least two couches and three different armchairs for their living room. Of course, Natsume had resisted, pointing out that their apartment was already very cozy and hardly had space for such superfluous purchases.

"For all our friends to sit on!" Mikan had exclaimed cheerfully, running her fingers over the almost rough, textured pattern of a plush light blue chair that didn't have arms.

"Friends?" deadpanned Natsume. "We have Imai and Ruka. They don't need five separate chairs. What, do you want us each to have our own chair?"

Mikan giggled as she went back to Natsume, standing in front of him and his emotionless face. She could tell by the way he tilted his head back slightly and from his eyes that he was grumpy.

"We also have your sister, your father, _my_ father, my mother, Permy, Koko, Yuu…" One by one, on her fingers, she ticked off the names of college classmates and relatives and former mentors and coworkers until she had gone well above thirty. "What if they all decide to come at the same time?"

Natsume repressed a shiver at the thought of such a crowded - and certainly _spirited_ \- social gathering in his own home, the one safe retreat in the world.

True enough, though, although Natsume knew Mikan loved to make friends and connect people, he hasn't expected the magnitude or the frequency of social gatherings she put on in their apartment. In the two years they had lived together, he found himself playing host to various birthday parties, small class reunions, Boys' Night (alternating), Ladies' Night (alternating), spontaneous movie nights, biweekly Game Nights (which often got rescheduled), family visits (sometimes he would come home from work to find his little sister visiting _Mikan_ instead of him!), celebrations of any kind, holiday parties, etc.

And admittedly, he didn't mind having people that he knew closely visit. It was the strangers and the intrusion into privacy that really irritated him. But the two of them had compromised and made clear their boundaries and desires.

Now, he found the abundance of seating useful as he let Mikan sleep on the couch, sitting himself on the loveseat, using one armchair for piles of his clothing, another for a pile of her clothing, and _another_ one for their assorted socks and underwear. (He wasn't some skeevy teenager obsessing over her panties, but Mikan had been making some very _bold_ and _daring_ choices lately in spite of the pregnancy. He wanted her to be comfortable, but she was going through some phases. He was just… looking.)

The television was tuned to one of Natsume's favorite Netflix programs, a documentary about how things were made, which he was actually very fascinated by. Mikan, on the other hand, rarely enjoyed the show so he was taking advantage of the peaceful hour to watch before she woke up and insisted on changing to one of the shows they always watched together, which usually was a comedic sitcom or a thrilling drama.

She'd been so exhausted lately, making a whole other human and whatnot, insisting she could still work at the office (against the protests of literally everyone else) and volunteer at the community center. Natsume took another peek at her sleeping face, noticing how deeply she slept. He bet if he flicked her on the forehead, she still wouldn't wake up.

He remembered when he met her for the first time at Alice University. Getting into university was no easy feat, and while Alice University may not have been a premier school, it was Natsume's first choice. (It was the one he received the most scholarships to attend.)

From his cool and seemingly apathetic attitude, sleeping in class and ignoring teachers, most of his classmates assumed he was a natural genius since he managed to get good grades, but the truth was he busted his ass studying and working and trying to hold his family together.

He busted his ass in high school, and he continued to do so throughout college. Which meant he slept when he could, wherever he could.

One evening, after a long day of classes that had started at nine in the morning and then a shift in the Technology and Information Center, gathering and sorting and analyzing data, as part of his work-study to help pay for tuition, he had fallen asleep while reviewing class notes in the professors' lounge of the Biology Department. Though he didn't like to talk much or open up to people, his exemplar academic performance but poor classroom behavior had attracted attention from professors, and he let them know just enough about his living situation that they, for the most part, let him slide with what he needed. Professor Misaki wouldn't care much if he used the professors' lounge or stayed overnight in the building.

However, who did seem to care was the self-righteous biology student who was turning in a late assignment, who happened to be _the_ first-year Mikan Sakura, who came straight from middle-class suburbia and didn't seem to understand that some people, especially those who came from neighborhoods such as Natsume's where things were often stolen and people were often taken, didn't very much appreciate being ambushed in their sleep.

Apparently, according to her side of the story, he had slept so deeply, he didn't wake up despite her hissed whispers, despite sitting next to him, despite her light prodding. Of course, she had enough manners to know not to yell in his ear so instead she had opted to lean very, very, _very_ close to his face, call out a firm, "Hey!" and shook his shoulder a bit.

The next part happened very rapidly for the both of them, and the details varied depending on who was asked, but somehow Natsume's books were knocked over, Mikan bumped her head, Mikan's skirt came off ("It had a zipper and _two_ buttons, Natsume, how does it just _come off_?" "You said yourself that it was _two_ sizes too big. Wear a belt next time, Polka Dots."), Natsume's nose was bleeding, and they were both flailing on the ground fighting blindly against an unknown assailant in self-defense.

Thankfully, the more level-headed of the two came to his ("You mean, _her_.") senses soon enough to stop the fight before it escalated. The physical fight that is.

The words "pervert" and "assault" were thrown around, perhaps by both sides ("What was I supposed to think? I wake up, and some ugly girl has her face all up in mine and her hand undoing my shirt?" "I wasn't _undoing_ your shirt, you stupid liar! Besides, whose hand did I feel up my skirt?" "I don't know, your own?"), then before they knew it, there was a campus security officer, then they might have had to file a report, then there _might_ have been a 9 month-long feud between the two of them full of death glares and taunting and name-calling.

At the rush of those memories, Natsume's face slowly slid into a smile as he gave a small laugh. He had thought she was so air-headed and vapid and childish back then. He put away the shirt he had been folding to lean the arm of the couch to look at Mikan's face again, the Netflix show temporarily forgotten.

That _stupid, stupid_ smiling face. He was tempted to brush a finger down her cheek, _lightly_ , just once, but he didn't want to bother her, choosing instead to return to folding their clothes.

Mikan's stupid smiling face just never went away. He could have gone his entire life keeping her at a distance and letting her pass him by, but for some reason, she stayed; at first to antagonize him, but then she got curious.

Just like with his professors, he didn't say much, just enough to answer her questions and make her understand just a little bit. Anyone else wouldn't delve any deeper, just let him slide on by.

Except for her. She cared enough to connect the pieces, to look further than what he presented to the world, and to make sure he was all right.

It was in the small things, the small things that made life easier: how she would give him snacks during grueling study sessions; how she would organize the papers in his binders and folders; how she would force him to take outside breaks; how she would give him soup during times of sickness; how she would accompany him to campus events if nobody else he knew was going; how she would call him in the mornings to make sure he had woken up for his early classes; how she would rub his back or brush his hair with her fingers when he was stressed.

Then all of a sudden, one day, he kissed her and she kissed him back, and then, she was pregnant!

And still, it was the little things that mattered the most: how she taught him a whole new way of organizing his clothes so he didn't just throw them around and put on whatever he thought was clean in the morning; how he accompanied her and let her lean on him every time they visited her grandfather's grave; how she introduced him to the theories of epistemology; how he tuned and preset the radio stations in her and his car to her favorites; how she gave him a skincare regime to finally tackle the dry skin that had been plaguing him since adolescent years; how he connected her phone to the local library services so she could borrow and read ebooks whenever she wanted; how she introduced him to the concept of almond milk and frittatas; how he always took time to feel her belly and to talk to the growing life inside her womb; how she took the time to explain the clashing and complementary tastes when cooking in the kitchen; how he took the time to prepare the most awful concoctions to satisfy her erratic cravings; how she still pulled him close and rubbed his back and brushed his hair when he was stressed; how he showed her how to file and pay for their bills online; how she introduced him to the idea of having a family and being with someone forever.

Finishing his neat stacks, he silently stood up and moved down the hall to the dryer in their apartment to pull out a fresh load of clothes. Thankfully, it was the last one they had to do, but Natsume was dedicated so he began to arrange in his mind the list of the rest of the chores to do for the day. The idea of finishing all the chores so Mikan could wake up to a nice, clean apartment and a hearty dinner came naturally to him and brought him a sense of satisfaction.

He worked hard in all aspects of his life, but he worked the hardest for the woman he loved.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** J. Cole.


	7. Good Lovin'

**a soft story, very much condensed**

* * *

 _Kill the princess._

It was his mission. He carried out missions. There was nothing but missions.

 _Kill the princess._

And if his mission involved killing even more people than the princess, then so be it. He was a killer; it was the only thing he was good for. He had to do it.

 _Kill the princess._

* * *

Hotaru Imai was not a foolish princess. Even at her own birthday celebration, she took precautions. She knew enemies may attempt to use the cover of the hullabaloo or the presumed lax atmosphere to launch an attack.

Which is why she was not surprised when she retreated to her bedroom to find a man wielding fire lying in ambush for her, no doubt a member of Z, a dark organization specializing in assassinations.

But Hotaru was more than a not foolish princess; she was cunning and she was _prepared_.

* * *

The next time Natsume awoke, it was as though he had drowned and had been resuscitated. Because when he awoke, his body wanted to breathe, and his first inhale was a humongous gasp for air. Sputtering, he felt the painful burn as he strained to inflate his lungs.

"Call the Lady in here! He has awoken!"

Through his gasping, he felt the flutter of many hands around him, and at all once, he felt claustrophobic.

Too many hands, too many people. Even worse, through his panicked vision, he couldn't recognize anything.

A spacious room, furnished. Desk. Wardrobe. Maids. Windows.

He launched himself toward the windows, but found his body to be utterly, devastatingly weak. He picked himself back up quickly and whipped himself around, prepared for a fight. Out of habit, he reached to pull out his dagger and slashed at the crowd, but then realized he was holding nothing but air. Patting himself down for more weapons, he discovered he wasn't wearing his own clothes.

The people were still fussing, trying to get closer, when a brunette woman burst into the room, causing everyone to jump back.

"Space, give him space," shouted the brunette, pushing everyone with her arms, creating a human barrier out of herself between them and him. It was a stalemate; Natsume in one corner, everyone else in another.

He could see the fright in their eyes, the trembling in their limbs, the sweat on their pale skin. He was still a monster.

That thought triggered a wave of guilt, something he hadn't felt in years nor had felt so deeply in his life. He was nearly overwhelmed as the sensation sent his head spinning, vision blurring, vomit rising.

He struggled to breathe. Everything felt so much sharper, and it hurt to exist.

Even in his distressed conundrum, he could hear everything quieting and through his now foggy vision, he saw a brown blob slowly make its way toward him. Blindly, he swiped at it, but all he caught was air.

He heard a faint shushing sound and found that as the blob grew closer, his body calmed down until he choked one last time on air and everything cleared. A deep inhale inflated his lungs and he felt himself to be… _alive._ Everything was so much sharper than it used to be, but everything was brighter and he could feel his mind finally work again.

It was though he had been awakened from a stupor, a burdensome cloud of fog lifted from his mind, his brain finally firing on all synapses.

He could _think._ And he could _see._

"There, there," came a soft, soothing voice. It belonged to that brunette woman, and he could see that she had been getting closer all the time.

He didn't remember falling to the ground, but there he was on his knees, the mysterious stranger kneeling beside him, close enough to touch.

Once more, she shushed, and instead of finding himself irritated by the sound, his once tensed shoulders relaxed.

He looked at her, and she looked at him. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, her words brushing over him with the gentleness of a lazy breeze.

He remained silent and, for the first time, looked her over with a wary eye. She didn't seem dangerous and for all of his training, he honestly didn't think she was dangerous. In fact, he could probably push her down and make a run for it. He actually didn't even need to push. He could probably burn her up faster than she could scream.

Funny, as he thought more and more, he recalled fuzzy memories where he wouldn't have even hesitated, much less _considered_ with actual _thoughts_ , about using his fire. It was and always had been his first instinct.

But… she wasn't dangerous. She wasn't going to harm him. Something about that realization made him pause.

More unbidden thoughts came, and at the forefront: looks deceive.

With that in mind, he lunged at her, faster than a viper, and pinned her to the ground. He had thought to scare her with a fireball in one hand, but for some reason, his fire wouldn't ignite. He settled for one hand at her throat and the other yanking one of her pigtails. He saw her wince, but her face soon smoothed out again.

The lack of cries for help at his sudden attack alerted him that they were alone in the room.

"Where am I?" he managed to rumble, finally realizing how gravelly his voice was and how dry his throat was.

"I am the Duchess Mikan Sakura. You are safe in my manor," she said, just as smooth as before, her voice pouring into his ears like a balm on a wound. He _felt_ safe.

He shook his head violently, to clear the effects of any potential voice pheromone Alice, but he quickly realized she wasn't using _any_ pheromone Alice on him. For sure, she was an Alice, he could feel her power rippling just beneath the surface, but she wasn't using it to attack him.

His head still felt oddly clear and faster than he would have been able to before, he connected the pieces of the puzzle.

"Nullification Alice," he said, and she nodded, her chin bumping into his hand still wrapped around her neck.

"I have the nullification Alice so your fire doesn't hurt me," she explained slowly, each word steadying the rockiness inside him. "My friend brought you here because you tried to kill her. The princess."

 _Kill the princess._

The words stabbed into his mind, but much to his surprise, they didn't consume his mind. They were a reminder of the past, but those words didn't force his hands to move as they did before. He could _think_ and he could _choose_.

He didn't have to kill the princess. Though his mind worked faster with this new lucidity, there were so many questions, and the confusion appeared on his face.

"You were part of an organization known as Z, which planned to assassinate her. There are others like you. The people who run that organization control you by using controlling devices. We took yours out, which means you might feel disoriented because everything feels… brighter."

The hand at her throat tightened unconsciously as he processed her words. Her eyes drifted toward the nearest bedside table. "Your devices are on that table. They were in the form of earrings."

Slowly, much slower than the Duchess would have liked, he eased off her throat and straightened up, still straddling her. His eyes flickered back to her, making sure she hadn't planned a surprise attack, while he reached for the table.

True to her word, he recognized the blood stone stud and the golden plate with dragon carvings. His hand drifted to his ears and once he acknowledged their absence, he felt an immense pressure lift off of him as though his head had been stuck in a vise and he had finally been freed.

Nearly out of shock, he sat down, but that movement elicited a pained yelp from the woman lying beneath him as he realized he just sat on her legs.

"Oh."

Something strange tugged at his heart, and he felt the desire to move. However, that desire didn't come from somewhere else like his commands had, instead it came from the inside. He realized he _wanted_ to move his body because he had hurt her.

He stood up and stepped away so he wasn't over the woman. He realized he must have still looked formidable, though, staring at her so intently so he tried to back away and not look so harshly at her.

Keeping her eyes on his face, she unhurriedly crawled backwards away from him until she was at a good distance before standing up.

She was shorter than he was. She was wearing a plain dress, something he had rarely seen duchesses or royalty or other nobles wear. Her face, likewise, was plain with brown eyes and freckled skin. Her hair, like everything else about her, was also a plain brown color, currently wrapped in two pigtails.

The hairstyle didn't suit her, made her looked much more like a child than necessary. He guessed she wasn't that much older or younger than he was, just the same age.

Then Natsume felt a sensation, but this one was much more familiar: fatigue. He was tired.

Silently, he moved toward the bed and crawled right back in it. As he laid his head on the pillow, he heard the lady whisper, "Of course. You must be tired. If you need anything, please just let us know. There will be somebody outside your door at all times."

Then he heard her footsteps go toward the door and the nearly soundless click as the door closed.

* * *

And then Natsume slept.

And Natsume slept and continued to sleep. Mercifully, he had no dreams.

Once, he had awoken and found himself thirsty, but without having to leave his ( _his_? Was this bed his now?) bed, someone had come with a pitcher and a glass. He drank the whole thing before resting his head back down and sleeping some more.

And so Natsume slept and continued to sleep.

The next time he awoke, it was nighttime and he had the urge to relieve himself. In the darkness, he managed to lift himself off the bed and find the door to open it. The hallway was dimly lit with candles. Sure enough, there was somebody outside the door; a young boy reading a book who didn't react to the door opening or to Natsume's appearance.

The boy glanced at his face briefly before pointing in the direction of the bathroom and then returning his nose to his book.

Still a bit dazed from sleeping so much, Natsume didn't say anything and instead went to relieve himself. It was a decent sized manor with tasteful furnishings; it wasn't opulent yet it wasn't bare. From what he could see, which honestly wasn't much, it looked homely.

Another strange sensation tingled in his heart, and it took Natsume the entire time until he entered his ( _his_? It wasn't his; it was the Duchess's) room again to realize he liked it.

Natsume liked the place.

Natsume moved to go back to sleep, but he had only spent a minute or so lying between the sheets before he heard voices outside the door.

Then there was a knock on the door. Natsume was caught off-guard by the knock, not because it was loud, but because he was so used to people barging into places they needed.

"Hello, I heard you were awake," came the growingly familiar voice of the duchess.

Unused to the situation, Natsume paused for longer than needed before he realized she was awaiting a response.

"Yes."

Then there was another pause, longer than he felt was necessary before Natsume tried again, in case she didn't hear. He tried a little louder: "Yes, I am awake."

"Oh, good, may I come in?" came her muffled voice.

He didn't understand why she would need to ask permission since this was _her_ manor, but nevertheless, he gave it.

When she entered, she carried an already lit candle, a small pack, and a great smile.

Natsume did not smile back.

"Hello, it's good to see you awake. You've been sleeping for more than two days now," she explained as she moved toward him. "May I?" She indicated the unlit lamp on one of the bedside tables that he didn't even know was there, placing the pack on the table.

Natsume nodded.

She lit the lamp, which considerably brightened up the room, then put the candle on the table on the other side of the bed. Then she gestured toward the foot of the bed. "May I sit down?"

This time, Natsume eyed her warily. That was getting a bit too close than he preferred. Still, he could not sense any harm coming from her.

He shifted his legs over, a wordless sign of acquiescence. She smiled a bit more and then sat down. She was wearing another plain dress, this time a white one with red trimmings.

"I don't know if you remember, but my name is Mikan," she said warmly. "What is your name?"

Natsume hesitated, suspicious of her intentions. He still didn't understand who she was or why he had been brought to her. From what he could tell, she wasn't working for Z and _seemed_ nice enough. But what if it was all an act? Was this a punishment for trying to kill the princess? For _failing_ to kill the princess?

When he didn't answer, she continued, "That's okay. You don't have to tell me." She looked down and absentmindedly smoothed out a wrinkle on the sheets before looking back at him. "I don't know if you remember me telling you this, but you tried to kill the princess."

His gaze hardened. So this _was_ a punishment. What was she going to do? Keep him prisoner? Use him as labor? Torture him and then kill him? Maybe underneath the kind facade was a sick, sick woman.

Mikan sensed his tension and unexpectedly got flustered. "Oh no, please don't don't be nervous. No, we're not here to kill you or anything."

He relaxed, a bit, and his hand unclenched, having unknowingly made a fist.

"We know about Z, and we know what they do there." Her eyes were easy to read, especially to Natsume, who had been trained in interrogation techniques. There was sadness, disgust, and a bit of hateful determination. "All of you are members of the nation of Alice, our fellow countrymen, and Hotaru and I are repulsed by what Z does; kidnapping young children, abusing them, using them as weapons."

Her lip curled as she got more fired up, but stopped herself before she could launch into a tirade.

"I provide sanctuary to all those who need it. My parents did so before me, and I hope to carry on their legacy. You are free to go if you want, but if you want to stay here at our manor, we'd be happy to have you as long as you don't hurt anyone. If you wish to stay, this room will be yours. We can get you clothes that fit along with anything you need. There's three meals a day, but if you're like me, the kitchens are open anything for a snack."

Her eyes twinkled a little bit. "Inside this pack, you'll find some small things you might need so you don't have to ask anyone: some candles, a bit of soothing medicine, a few healing stones, some vitamins."

Natsume did not know what to say, but as she gave him time and went to leave the room, assuring him that he did not need to tell her what he wanted to do right at that moment, he knew he had at least one thing to tell her.

Before she left, he caught her attention. "My name is Natsume."

At that, she nodded, a small smile tickling the edge of her lips. "Welcome, Natsume."

* * *

She had seen many like him before, both animal and human. Once, while pruning her gardens, she had come across a feral cat. It had been maimed, most likely in a fight with other wild cats, large slashes across its belly and its ear nearly torn off.

She brought it into the manor to take care of it and called in Princess Hotaru's Royal Animal Caretaker to help heal it, but when it awoke, it had yowled and scratched and bit everything. Mikan lost many good pillows in the short time the cat was there, and Mikan's arm was perpetually bandaged from all the claw marks. When she finally got the cat to calm down and trust her, it still behaved skittishly.

Loud noises sent it scampering away and disappearing for hours until Mikan would find it bunkered down in some tight nook like in one of her shoe boxes or a high shelf in the library. Fearing that something else would steal its food, it chowed down everything it could, often throwing up, until they figured out to give it smaller portions more frequently.

The cat, after learning to trust more humans than just Mikan, was slowly introduced to its permanent home at Hotaru's palace, in the care of the nice, gentle Royal Animal Caretaker. Mikan visited it sometimes and was pleased to see it thriving, having recently had kittens of its own.

Natsume was, by far, not the only person they had rescued from Z, though he was the 13th to stay with Mikan. Her parents, like many other dukes and duchesses, had provided much needed sanctuary when the Alice War raged in its full, brute intensity, and Mikan hoped to do just the same.

* * *

On the fourth night, she found out he had used one of the healing stones, taken some vitamins, and suffered from nightmares. He hadn't left his room yet, which didn't worry her, since her guards reported that he had been accepting the small bits of food they left ready for him. In addition to bringing meals, they also left a stack of food in the room for him to eat anytime he wanted.

Since he already had stayed three days out of his volition, they had prepared the basic tunic and breeches, but he hadn't ventured out of his room. Yet.

Overall, Mikan was pleased with the progress. It had taken Nobara a week to open up and talk. Others had taken more or less the same time, but Natsume had responded to her almost immediately. Mikan had the feeling that Natsume was strong, but flexible; he could adapt to and withstand anything.

But on the fourth night, she found out it came at a cost. Honestly, the screaming woke her up faster than her maids or her guards or her servants could. Without thinking, she leapt out of bed and rushed outside. She caught them in the hallway on the way to Natsume's room, telling her what she had already guessed.

None of them had dared to enter, but when she opened the door, they crowded around the doorway curiously. Jinno, the stern head servant, shooed them away as he watched Mikan carefully approach the writhing Natsume.

His eyes were screwed shut, sweat soaking into the bed and into his clothes. He wasn't flailing and instead had buried his face into the pillows, hands twisted into claws, digging into the mattress.

First, she tried it without the voice pheromone, but found that his screams drowned out her whispers. She opened up the small pack she had left on the table and ordered Jinno to bring her a stone, which he responded to with haste.

Handing her the stone, Jinno shut the door behind him to give her some privacy and prevent any of the nosy servants from looking.

Although Natsume's screams had subsided on their own, she didn't want to take the risk as she clutched the stone containing the voice pheromone Alice in her hand and absorbed it, allowing her to use the ability temporarily.

" _Natsume,_ " she called, and the reaction was instantaneous as Natsume stopped writhing, though his hands remained clawed into the mattress. He was a stone statue. " _Everything is okay. You're safe here._ "

She stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, she reached out before deciding to touch him, very gently, rubbing his back. At her first touch, he shivered but then relaxed as though melting underneath her.

After a few minutes, she commanded him to wake up and to flip around. Mikan hated telling him what to do. Although he was technically awake, his eyes were blank as the voice pheromone took root in his brain. She also noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks damp; he had been crying in his sleep.

Wrapping an arm around him, she scooted him closer to her as she helped him take a spoonful of the calming medicine, which he did so obediently. As a mother would do, she tucked him back into bed, stroking his hair.

" _Go back to sleep,_ " she said gently. His eyes closed, and she blew out the candle on the table, waiting as her own eyes adjusted to the darkness and to the moonlight.

She had heard from many about what Z does to the children, and she had seen the consequences firsthand herself. Natsume's current state did not surprise her.

As she stood to leave, she heard a whimper break through Natsume's lips. In the weak light permitted through the window, she could see the rapid movement underneath his eyelids and the sweat already appearing on his face once more.

Trying to comfort him again, she gave one last command as the voice pheromone Alice disappeared from her body: " _Calm down, Natsume._ "

Alas, the power had already weakened to the point where it was rendered ineffective. For a moment, she wondered what his nightmares were about to be so terrible and so strong. As she leaned toward him, shushing and stroking his face, his arms shot up and wrapped around her so fast, she would have sworn he was awake.

Trapped in his grip, Mikan was shocked speechless as he held her tightly against him, his face buried against her shoulder. Then his whole body shook, and she felt his tears soak her nightgown.

His muffled cries touched her heart, and she passed the entire night with him, holding him like a baby.

* * *

Natsume was thoroughly embarrassed in the morning, though he didn't show it, but Mikan did not make a big fuss about it. Instead, the morning after the incident, she helped him leave the room for the first time during the day. Laboriously, they made it to the main manor doors. She opened the door, and he saw the outside world for the first time in about a week. It was a cloudy day of bearable temperature, not too warm, not too sunny. He still didn't fully trust exposing himself, but he did peek his head out like a freshly hatched baby bird out of its nest.

She introduced him to a few faces, such as Jinno and Kitsuneme, the guard who usually took post outside his door. But he couldn't handle any more than that and opted to retire in his room by suppertime.

Small steps.

The next day, he felt ready enough that she gave him a tour of the complete grounds, everything from the guest rooms to the kitchens to the gardens. It was sunnier and a bit warmer than the day before, and he still didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of fresh air on his skin so he didn't last very long outside.

But then, Mikan showed him the library.

Oh, the library. He hadn't expected to like it so much, considering he hadn't spent much time reading and truthfully couldn't read much, and he was about ready to disregard it completely when Mikan showed him a game-changer:

A graphic novel.

The story was so easy to follow, and there was minimal reading required. In fact, Natsume could essentially understand the story from the pictures themselves. For the first time in a long, _long_ while, Natsume enjoyed his first book; it was a story about a school of children with superpowers.

And the best part was there was more than one graphic novel. No, the _best_ part was Mikan letting him read as many as he wanted. No, even _better_ were a special type of graphic novels called "comic books," which involved _fewer_ words and were even shorter.

As Natsume spent a good portion of the morning and early afternoon slouched in the library, silently flipping through comic book after comic book, he felt something satisfying fill in a hole he didn't know was inside him. It was though, for the first time, he could feel how big the world was and how many people were in it and how many _stories_ there were.

He felt _connected_. Of course, he didn't share any of what he was feeling with Mikan, but it was obvious from the way he was so engrossed in those books that he enjoyed them immensely.

Regretfully, Mikan had to tear him away, but promised he could take as many as he wanted back to his room, and of course, he was free to enter the library whenever he wanted.

His second favorite place that she showed him that day was a very quiet room filled with dark wooden tables and plush chairs and shelves of books that she called her "study." The windows were large, dust motes suspended in sunshine. The rugs were thick, absorbing all sound of footsteps.

Though his mind instinctively began calculating all the exit strategies and the different manners in which an assassin could ambush her, he tried to redirect his thoughts so they focused simply on how much he appreciated the design of the room.

"Would you like to sup with us?" she interrupted his thoughts.

Though he declined that evening, he accepted the next.

* * *

Little by little, he stepped out of the room and into the rest of the manor on his own. There were some hours she didn't even know where he was, though more often than not, he was in the library.

He didn't say anything more to her than was necessary, but she had started to learn how to read what he needed and what he wanted. There were times when he didn't mind her presence, and he let her stay with him, reading silently or watching him. There were times when he wanted to be alone, and she didn't bother him for hours.

He spoke very little at meals, but Mikan could tell by the way he watched the other guests speak that he was paying attention, and when she asked him one time what he thought of the conversation, he had given astute commentary.

Mikan didn't push him to converse with her, which he appreciated, but she always made it a point to find him each day and say, "Good morning!" and "Good night!" Often times, Natsume responded with a simple nod.

Sometimes, if she was close enough, she felt him use his Alice, but whenever she went to check on him, she didn't find anything destroyed; just a lit candle or him stoking a fire back to life so he could continue reading.

The stack of books grew by his bedside. He began eating more and more food at meals and had actually tried a dessert for the first time, despising its sweetness immediately. Sometimes, he would seek her out during the day, unable to figure out a particularly long word in one of the comic books. Patiently, she would teach him the meaning, and she soon discovered he was a fast learner with a good memory.

And at the end of a fortnight, she decided to initiate the next phase of her plan.

* * *

It was a blank canvas.

"Creating is good for the soul. It lets you release all of your emotion, everything bottled up inside, and _create_ something tangible that you can see and be proud of." Delicately, she continued to sketch the bare bones of a tree, a lake, and what Natsume presumed to be a sunset. It was difficult to guess without any color.

He stared at the small stretch of white canvas in front of him, so pure, so untouched, so clean. Slowly, he lifted one hand to lightly trail the very tips of his finger, the rough texture barely perceptible underneath his calluses.

Then he lit it on fire. And he stared Mikan right in the eyes as the flames burned away all the pureness.

Much to his surprise, she did not flinch nor did she squeal as he expected her to. At first, it seemed as though she were going to frown, but then she changed her mind as she reached over and waved her hand over his now ruined canvas, the flames vanishing immediately.

Then, even more surprising, she looked at him with mirth in her eyes.

"So I take it painting isn't really your thing."

* * *

Next she wanted him to try pottery, but his Alice burned up any liquid from the wet clay and everything cracked. Then she brought him every single musical instrument known to humankind, and even though they both quickly figured out he hadn't an ounce of talent in his body and could only manage to keep a melody for the triangle, she still had him try every instrument.

 _Every._ Single. One.

While pushing him to engage his creativity, Mikan also figured he most likely needed a physical outlet as well. As the days warmed up, she soon started to introduce him to outdoor activities.

The first of which was archery.

Although she continued to surprise him day after day, he downright stared at her in disbelief as she cheerfully handed him a bow and arrow. He wondered if all her ancestors and relatives were as stupidly naive as she was and if so, how had her family line manage to survive so long?

He had arrived barely three weeks ago, a lethally trained assassin, and here she was, allowing him free rein in the manor with minimal supervision (which he already thought was quite brainless of her) and now she intended to equip him with a weapon.

She wasn't just stupid; she was _asking_ to die.

A curious thought crept through his mind as he nocked an arrow and before he could talk himself out of it, he acted upon it and instead of aiming his bow toward the targets set up fifty meters away, he turned it toward Mikan.

This time, she did flinch, but not of fear as he hoped she would, but because of how sudden his movement was. Her Alice wouldn't be able to protect her against an arrow piercing her body. She was defenseless.

Mikan lowered her chin in determination and looked at him straight in the eye. She didn't say much and she didn't need to say much.

"Natsume," she warned lowly and fiercely. And with that one word, his name, he understood it all and felt, for the first time, shame course through his body. She wasn't stupid; she trusted him, _too_ much in his opinion and _too_ much for his liking, but she trusted him.

Ugh. His insides felt slimy. It was different than when his trainers assigned him missions and trusted him to complete them. Of course, there would be a punishment, perhaps a whipping, if he didn't, but they had trusted him to get the job done.

She trusted him to not kill her, to not steal anything, to not run away, back to this trainers, and order an execution. And this newfound knowledge made him feel a little strange, but most of all, it made him feel shameful for aiming his arrow at her.

"Kidding," muttered Natsume as he nonchalantly turned back to his real target and let his arrow fly straight into the bullseye. Still, it was until he had shot his seventh arrow into the bullseye did he notice her relax, but when she did, Natsume swore the air felt a bit… triumphant.

* * *

Mikan hummed lightly as she responded to her best friend's letter, requesting a status update on the fire-wielding Alice left in her care.

She wrote only the truth: Natsume was like a tall block of ice, but he was adjusting well. Spoke infrequently. Hadn't shown any indication of leaving. Curious about the world. Lovely to be around. Only tried to kill her once.

* * *

Natsume didn't like any of the physical activities Mikan introduced him to, especially the games (who really needs to stand around and hit a ball with a mallet several times?); instead he opted for the simpler task: running.

He ran during the brisk dawn, he ran during the fading sunset. Sometimes, Mikan joined him, dressed in pants, but it was not for very long or very frequently.

It was much less physically demanding than most of Z's training, but he could choose when he wanted to run, where he wanted to run, and for long he wanted to run.

He didn't have to think much, just work his body, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

It was liberating.

* * *

One morning, after his run and a quick change of clothing, Mikan said there was someone he should see. As Mikan escorted him to an undisclosed room, Natsume noticed how few people they passed and felt a shift in the temperature. It was getting colder.

Mikan's explanation gave no real hints as to where they were going, leading him up and up stairs. "I thought you might like to see a familiar face around here. Like you, she comes and goes as she pleases but knows she can always come back if she ever needs or wants. She's staying here just temporarily as she travels to another land, but I thought it'd be nice for you to meet her."

Natsume cocked his head curiously, but Mikan simply smiled at him as she knocked twice on the door, tucked away in the manor's highest corner.

"Come in."

Mikan swung open the door to reveal a normally furnished room. At first, Natsume didn't see anything exceptionally out of the ordinary until a small head popped out from behind a high-seated chair.

Natsume stared at her, long platinum blonde hair and shy demeanor, until a name came to match the face from somewhere long forgotten: Nobara.

Faded memories passed through his mental eye, his heart thumping harder and harder with each scene. Nobara as a little girl being introduced to Z, fighting against her during practices, Nobara bleeding due to injuries _he_ caused. She had the Ice Alice, a natural enemy of his Fire.

Natsume thought: he _hated_ her.

But just as quickly, another thought came: No, he didn't.

She was just like him.

She had arrived at Z a bit later than he did, and they soon ruined her the way they ruined him. He remembered seeing her struggle against their trainings, bruises and cuts strikingly apparent against her pale skin. He remembered watching her from across the practice room, against a background of grunts and blows, as she vomited and collapsed from exhaustion, then they slapped back to consciousness. His shoulder ached in memory of a time when they had fought, and her ice had impacted _hard_ , dislocating it.

She was just like him. Yet, there they were, free in the world.

The two didn't say anything, just looked at each other, but the eyes told the other what they needed to say.

Nobara's eyes told Natsume a story of finding peace and acceptance, of thawing ice, of becoming whole again.

Natsume's eyes showed Nobara his still remaining fears of Z, but that the last thing he wanted to do was leave.

Mikan left them alone, and they sat in companionable silence for the first time in their lives.

* * *

At the four week mark, Natsume had nightmares again. Except this time, when Mikan woke up in his bed after a night of consoling him, he didn't let go.

He let go physically, but in the following days, he trailed her closer than her own shadow. Where she went, he went. She was surprised, of course, but she covered it up and let him do what he want, curious to see what would happen.

When she was tasting her chef's newest pasties, he was right there, stuffing himself with different flavored cream puffs. When a fellow duchess came to visit, he sipped his tea and nibbled at his finger food and ignored any pointed looks from Lady Sumire. When she was outside in her gardens, he was there, reading a book in the sunshine, marveling at its warmth.

The only time he left her alone was when she needed to venture into town. She had invited him along, but he only made it as far as the carriage before feeling the openness of the world unsettle him.

As soon as she returned, he was right there, helping carry her purchases inside.

The abandonment panic only lasted for about a week, but it had soon become routine for the both of them, and soon there they were, Mikan and Natsume together.

* * *

After seven weeks, the letter came, expected by Mikan, unbeknownst to Natsume. It was the end of the day, everyone had supped, and Mikan was taking care of the manor business in the study. Natsume, not wanting to leave her side quite yet, was assigned the quiet easy job of sorting through the letters that had arrived and deciding which ones needed her most urgent attention.

Of course, it wasn't something he _had_ to do, but rather something he didn't mind doing. (And besides, although it was an easy job, he couldn't help but swell up at the notion that Mikan trusted him, in a whole other sense, to read her letters. It felt… _intimate._ )

He had already separated the junk mail, of people offering items or advertising for some event or another, from correspondence from actual acquaintances and friends when the stamp of the Royal Seal caught his eye.

 _The princess._

Without warning, one part of his brain hissed, _Kill the princess._ As quickly as that thought had come, Natsume tried to shoo it out of his mind, refusing to think it further.

Instead, he decided the letter was most likely imperative for Mikan to read and so handed it to her straight away.

Mikan flinched in surprise at the _thing_ thrusted in front of her face. When she recognized the seal, she took it and opened it hurriedly. Natsume watched her read it, her lips moving in silence as she skimmed the letter rapidly.

When she finished, she carefully tucked the letter back into its envelope and looked at Natsume.

In a rare moment, Natsume was concerned about the expression on her face, which seemed a bit like… fear?

"Natsume," she said, "we have to go see the princess."

* * *

While Mikan packed for the day trip, it took the entire next day to get Natsume accustomed to riding in the carriage.

Small steps.

He sat in it, Jinno sitting across, watching him. Then, they took a slow circle around the estate. However, after that, Jinno watched Natsume took a jogging lap around in the fresh air and then, for a reason unknown to Jinno, climbed a tree.

Nobody had seen Natsume do that before, and it took about 20 minutes until he descended and they decided to try the carriage again.

They made it down the lane to the edge of Mikan's estate before Natsume abruptly jumped ship and stood there, panting, bent over, hands on his knees.

Without saying a word, he took off running in the opposite direction of town, and Jinno let him go.

Though he didn't mean to go fast, the adrenaline fueled his long strides, and he found himself _wanting_ to go faster. He was afraid of stopping because out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the neighbors; he saw barns, he saw houses, he saw cows, he saw other people, he saw the world pass by.

It was a big world out there. _Other_ people existed out there. Did he dare see it?

* * *

"How was it?" Mikan asked at supper. She wanted to hear the report directly from Natsume.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts and stir his spoon around in his soup, he finally responded, "I'm ready to go."

* * *

The ride was much more bearable with Mikan, though he did feel a lot like a child with her holding his hand for all of it.

The carriage went faster than it had before, but still slower than it would have without Natsume. What should have been a 10 minute distance turned into half an hour.

A half hour that Natsume appreciated as he peered out the carriage window and watched the world. When they entered town, his breath was taken away.

There were so many other people, and everyone was simply living their lives. He had read about and seen towns in the books he read, but ink was nothing compared to the life that existed in reality.

Children played in the streets; peasant women carried baskets or food; other women dressed like Mikan walked around, faces hidden behind fans. Men worked in the streets. Natsume heard the clanging of metal from a blacksmith, the shouts of merchants selling wares, the angry voices of bartering, the laughter of people.

When it became too much, he lay down on the carriage bench and let Mikan brush his hair.

He felt the carriage stop, and he knew they had arrived at the palace. Mikan exited first and helped him down. The palace, though still grand, was nothing he expected. It was tall and exquisite, but it was simply built with no extra flourish, no extravagance.

He soon saw that the extravagance was kept all on the inside as Mikan led him down hallways furnished with grand scenes of art, stones all polished and gleaming, elegantly dressed servants scurrying around, the rugs beneath his feet more luxurious than anything he had seen at Mikan's manor.

He had officially entered the rest of the world.

* * *

"I'm sorry I can't be in the room with you," apologized Mikan again for the sixth time as she checked Natsume and his attire for anything stray, "but everything will be okay. They won't hurt you. It'll just be the Princess Hotaru and her trusted adviser, Kokoroyomi. Trust me, the worst Koko could do is make a lame joke about you. He won't tell any of your secrets."

Mikan took a deep breath, and Natsume did the same; and then, one of the guards outside the throne room spoke, "The princess is ready for the examination."

The guards opened the doors for him. He felt Mikan give a gentle nudge forward, and into the room he walked.

Mikan never knew exactly what went on in that room, just that the princess wanted to see the people she left in Mikan's care with her own eyes. Whatever examination they underwent, the princess always decided their fate. Sometimes, they would be assigned a job in the palace; sometimes they would be let free to decide their own fate. Sometimes, they just never came back to Mikan; those, Mikan could predict. Sometimes they could never quite fully forget Z, never quite fully rejoin the rest of the world.

* * *

Though she was not yet queen, the princess sat regally in an ornate throne, commanding the room. To her right stood man who looked very much like Kitsuneme, with the countenance of a jester, but was not dressed as such. Nobody else.

The face of the princess flickered dimly in his memories, as though he were viewing it in poor lighting. Her face in reality was so much sharper and cleaner. She did not react to his entrance, but watched him with keen eyes.

When he gotten a fair distance to her, he stopped and bowed, as per Mikan's instructions. When he straightened, he cocked his head curiously, ready for the examination Mikan said they had come for.

"Closer," the princess beckoned.

Natsume took two steps forward. He saw the princess's eyes scrutinize him.

All of this done in silence, which Natsume honestly preferred.

He looked at the man next to the princess; Kokoroyomi? The man grinned widely at him.

"Kitsuneme is my twin," he explained, breaking the silence, "You probably met him at Mikan's manor. My name is Kokoroyomi, as I'm sure Mikan informed you, but people call me Koko."

Natsume nodded curtly. He saw the princess turn to Koko and nod as well.

"Are you ready for the next part of the examination, Natsume?"

Natsume nodded again, unsure of what it entailed.

Then he felt probing fingers in his heads. Out of reflex, he put up a mental block, focusing intently on the concept of _solidness_ as he had been trained to do.

He saw a grimace cross Koko's otherwise easygoing face. A Mind Reading Alice.

"There's a barrier," he murmured to the princess.

"Let us see." Her voice, though soft, was undoubtedly full of power.

Still unable to relax completely, Natsume closed his eyes and thought of nothing. Soon enough, he felt Koko touch his mind and, upon finding no resistance, enter gently. Natsume could tell which memories Koko was looking at as they spontaneously came to Natsume's mind.

Finding the princess, arriving at Mikan's manor, exploring each room, trying to play an instrument, reading comics, secretly picking oranges from the orchard and eating them late at night...

Then Koko paused at a particular memory of when Natsume was helping Mikan garden, dutifully holding a sapling to be planted. The memory paused for a second as Koko focused, trying to see clearly, seeing the scene as Natsume had.

Natsume could feel Koko's eyes follow where his own had been: tracing the small strand of hair that had slipped out from beneath her hat, curling delicately around her neck and falling into her bosom; the way her chest heaved with exertion as she pulled at the dirt; the curve of her thin lips as she cheered with a heart smile; the sunshine beaming from behind her, highlighting the shape of her slender neck and shapely cheeks.

Then Koko retreated from Natsume's mind. He smiled cheekily at the princess.

And Natsume knew at that moment, whenever the mind-reading adviser read a memory, he could feel the emotions in it.

Then he felt Koko delve in even deeper.

* * *

When he entered the parlor, three hours since she had last seen him, Mikan immediately put down her hand of cards and rushed to Natsume's side, abandoning her former playmates.

"How was it?"

Natsume shrugged, too exhausted to even formulate a response. "It was okay." Without hesitation, Mikan took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at him and scanning his face for anything awry, as a mother would.

Leaning into her touch, he looked at her, too. Though his eyes were clear and awake, they spoke nothing about what he was feeling inside, which was very much like what he had felt when he had watched her garden.

As Mikan examined him, he took the chance and leaned into those feelings, admiring her freckled face, her soft cheeks he would love to rub his own against, those intelligent and loving brown eyes…

Mikan dropped her hands from his face, seeing nothing out of the ordinary with him.

In return, his own hands reached up toward her head and did something he had yearned to do ever since he saw her. While she couldn't see what he was doing, she felt her hair being released from her signature pigtails.

"Put your hair down. You look prettier this way."

Caught off-guard at the compliment, Mikan blinked at him.

"Oh."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't; he just stood there looking at her, and soon, for some reason she didn't know why, she felt herself start to blush underneath his gaze as a stray thought popped into her mind.

Shaking away that thought, deeming it impossible, she asked him, "Did Hotaru tell you what she wanted to do with you?"

Natsume shrugged again.

Mikan waited for a response, but none came as Natsume opted to pick up a small sandwich to eat and lie down on a couch.

She frowned deeply. "I'm going to go ask her myself."

* * *

When she came back, Mikan offered her hand.

"Go home?"

Natsume nodded and accepted her hand. It felt natural.

"Home."


End file.
